Mockings Hall
by TomiStaccato
Summary: Exchanging her dreary high school life to be the legendary Mockingjay in the mythical nation of Panem, Katniss is pulled into a realm of dark forces and blonde princes all vying for the upper hand in the bloody power struggle. Medieval/Fantasy/Political AU. Multi POV but mostly K/P. Cover Art and Banner by Ro Nordmann (on my tumblr).
1. Chapter 1

**Mockings Hall**

**Author's Notes: Hi! Thank you for reading my first fan fiction. I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 1 **

**Alternate Title: The Ordinary Girl and the Prince with Awakening Responsibilities**

Her head almost thudded into her wooden desk for the fourth time dozing off had she not felt the urge to sneeze and tried to squash it.

_Ah, triple History with Mrs. Ault right after lunch break._ Tuesdays could not be more soporific.

Katniss looked to her left and saw Madge sleepily rubbing her eyes as they tried to listen to Caroline Brenby recite her homework about the second Peloponnesian War.

She scratched her head, huffed out a breath, and saw Madge snicker at her. She rolled her eyes.

She looked out the window into the expansive grassy field where students were practicing their sports and enjoying the sunshine. It glinted invitingly on the lake at the far edge and she could make out some students running on the ivory bridge atop.

The slight hum of a distant lawnmower, like a lullaby, only helped to make the afternoon more conducive to napping.

_Not to worry_, she thought. She'll be out there in a few hours. Until then, she can always doodle on her notebook or dream about the targets she would shoot at practice later.

Mrs. Ault called for a short break and Katniss stood up to stretch her spindly arms and tight muscles. Madge passed by and tickled the exposed flesh at her side and Katniss slapped her on the back with a notebook as retaliation.

Katniss opened the window a bit more and inhaled. The air smelled like freshly cut grass with a hint of diesel from the lawnmower.

She'll miss this school, she thought. In a few months, they'd all be off to different colleges and universities, scattered like fireflies in the early evening. The admissions tests were over and it was now that period of waiting and praying and spending the remaining weekends with friends over popcorn and ice cream and gossips until the sun came out again.

She was just about to return to her seat when Sapphire, the school's most notorious gossiper, blocked her way and pulled her to the side and grinned mischievously.

"Stanislaus is gonna ask you out." She breathed out the words excitedly in one huff and continued, despite Katniss's blank look.

"I heard from Avy that Leela told Simmy that her brother, who goes to Spence with Stanislaus, was checking out your profile online during Calculus."

She beamed at Katniss and added a clap for effect, as though her morsel of useless, unverified narration of the other school's population was a favor to Katniss. This, she thought, was the disadvantage of having an all-girls' school right across the all-boys' school.

_Who the hell is Stanislaus? _She thought. Katniss stared at Sapphire before letting out a shaky laugh, thanked her, and went back to her seat.

Oh boy, it's this part of high school she won't miss.

* * *

At home, she told Madge she'd call her back as her arms were currently covered in dishes and soapsuds. Aunt Effie made her cover for Prim, _again_, because her younger sister was studying for her Statistics test tomorrow and Katniss was just going to watch TV anyway. She won't be surprised though if she went up now and found Prim at her dresser, trying on _her_ make-up while only deigning to glance at her books.

"Sweetie!" her Aunt Effie trilled from the doorway to the kitchen.

"I'll just be going out but you don't have to wait for me ok?" Her heels clacked on the floor as she walked towards Katniss. Aunt Effie gave her a quick peck on the cheek and Katniss smiled back.

"Don't worry, Prim will be pruning the garden for a week." She winked and was walking back out.

"Have fun!" Katniss called out.

When the dishes were done and her arms smelled of detergent, Katniss drank a glass of chocolate milk before going up the stairs. She paused at the sole picture on the wall that featured her, Prim, and their mom. She always glanced at this photo whenever she went up or down because it was one of the few photos where her mother's smile reached her eyes in the months after her father passed. Her mother joined her father not long after.

When she got to her room, what she imagined earlier was not far from what she saw. Prim was there, complete with rouged lips and thickened eyebrows, except she was also drooling over her book while lying on Katniss's bed, make-up strewn all over.

She nudged Prim gently and stroked her hair while she tried to wake her up.

"Wake up Primrose, you need to wash that gunk off your face."

Prim just mumbled, said "5 minutes", then went back to snoring.

Katniss can't help the small smile that found its way to her as she took the book from under Prim and replaced it with a pillow. She headed to the bathroom to wash up after clearing her bed of all the scattered make-up. When she got back, Prim was sleepily trying to sit up, forehead creasing as she opened her eyes wider, and was reaching for her book.

"No it's ok, you can go back to sleep and I'll wake you early tomorrow to study. How's that?"

Prim yawned, nodded once, and plopped back to her fluffy pillow, snoring immediately.

She didn't make her sister go to her own room tonight, unlike other nights where small things escalated to shrill fights, mostly over used make-up or borrowed clothes or ruined shoes, and Aunt Effie would appear in the doorway, hands on hips with bulging eyes, as she mediated between the two.

She went to bed beside Prim. Just as she was about to sleep, she remembered that she forgot to call Madge back to ask who that Stanislaus was.

* * *

He was at the moment when his dream merged with the sounds of his life outside. He can still pull back the images and dream some more, but the smell of honeydew flowers and the faint chirps of the morning birds crept into his consciousness. Suddenly, he could not remember what he was dreaming about.

Someone was moving about in his room. The curtains were drawn and the bright light casted a glow over his eyelids.

"Your Highness, good morrow," His Privy Gentleman greeted him but he was too groggy to note if he bowed his head, as they ought to.

"Apologies for the early awakening but his Majesty, your father, is requesting your presence before your brother the Grand Duke departs."

The gentleman placed a towel and a bowl of perfumed water beside his bed.

"What hour is it?" He sat up, voice still gravelly from sleep, and blinked his eyes open.

"The seventh hour of the sun, Prince Peeta."

He nodded, rubbed his eyes, and replied "Please send my acquiescence to his Majesty. I shall be there in no more than half an hour."

"As you wish my Prince."

The door closed and he reached for the towel, preferring to do this ritual by himself. He dipped it in the bowl with his eyes barely open. Bringing the damp towel to his face, the intrusive peppery mint smell jolted his senses awake and he nearly dropped the wet thing.

He got out of bed in an annoyed huff and walked to the window to drink in the sun and clear the sleepy fog in his head before proceeding to the cavernous water room to get cleaned and dressed.

Stepping out into the hall, the guards and chamber men stood in attention as he walked past in his clipped, purposeful gait. His Privy Gentleman was waiting for him at the end of the hall, announcing that the breaking of the fast will be at the Solarium, at the Grand Duke's request.

His brother and father were already talking by the window when he entered. They turned back and he bowed deep before meeting their eyes. His father gestured to the small round table outside the glass doors. The talk today will be heavy and unpleasant, as it was the first anniversary of his eldest brother's passing.

As he took his seat, he inhaled the cold, crisp air. His gaze turned to the field covered with reddening trees in the distance, while his father and brother argued about the Kingdom's economic policy in the background. The perpetual autumn of their land afforded their flora with poetic hues. From afar, he can see the faint red moon blending into the bright morning sky. It was another reminder of his brother's death, for the moon first took the color of blood that fateful night.

But there was something else beside the moon today; a blurry scarlet streak that was absent yesterday. He squinted his eyes to look closer and in doing so remembered a verse from an old song sung to him by his governess, about a legend and its three signs. This legend rose into consciousness during the dark Dynasty of the Warring Kings and was handed down through generations. The blood moon was one of the signs and he realized with oncoming dread that the legend's second sign was upon them now. What was once a story regaled to young children before greetings of good night was now shaping into a chilling existence before their eyes, a herald of unthinkable things to come.

With uncharacteristic awe, and with a slight, unplaceable anticipation, he whispered to his father that the legend's blood comet has arrived.

* * *

Katniss pursed her lips and slowed her breath as she tuned out everything but herself and the target before her. She released the arrow and it quivered when it hit its target. Not quite at the center as she hoped but near enough.

It was a late Friday afternoon and she preferred target practice out in the field with her teammates to going to the mall with her classmates. She was about to release another bow when a twig broke behind her, startling her, and sending the arrow a foot to the right of its target and into a stone statue. Madge appeared beside her, bag slung over one shoulder, and ready to leave.

"Don't do that again!" Katniss exclaimed.

Madge just snickered. "Are you coming or not?"

She turned back in a grump, picking up another arrow.

"I told you, I'm not going today. I'm getting rusty and I have to practice if I ever want to get a scholarship for college."

"Oh you'll be fine! You're the best in our year. Actually, I just remembered you're the only one in the team in our year, but that's ok! Your shoulder is healing well and you should be back in tiptop archery shape soon!"

Katniss gave Madge a pointed look.

"Oh wait, you're just avoiding someone aren't you?" Madge realized and covered her giggles with a hand.

Katniss got the bow and arrow and mock-aimed at Madge while chasing her. They were laughing hard and running for some time when her coach yelled at her to stop.

"Seriously Katniss, it won't be so bad to go out with him." Madge said while trying to catch her breath under a tree.

"But I'm not even attracted to him so why bother?" Katniss quipped, returning to her shooting practice.

"That's not just the point of dating! You need to meet people Katniss, and we're all leaving for college soon. How many people outside school do you know apart from your family and the people from your favorite coffee shop and the grocery?"

When Katniss didn't answer her and just let out a huff of annoyance at another missed target, Madge turned to leave.

"I'll drop by your place later!" Katniss called out. Madge waved and rolled her eyes.

She didn't know what the big deal was over dating. She didn't like the guy so she wasn't going out with him, especially not after the way he asked. It was the talk of the whole school last week and Sapphire was still regaling it to anyone who would bother to listen.

This Stanislaus had the nerve to appear outside school in his fancy car, with the words "Will you go out with me Katniss Everdeen" hung like shiny garlands by the doors. All the students who were leaving saw it, as well as the teachers, the drivers, and some of the parents fetching their daughters.

She nearly died of embarrassment when she walked out the wooden double doors and the students cheered and whooped for her. She didn't know what to do so she ran back, Madge in tow, and called Aunt Effie to pick her up at the back gate.

She fetched another arrow, her cheeks and ears heating up again when she remembered what happened.

_That pompous, presumptuous boy!_ She thought as she nocked the arrow back again and aimed. She was just thinking of his face when she released the arrow and it landed right at the center.

_Hmm, not bad_, she thought.

* * *

There was a mad scramble at the table as soon as he uttered the words, followed by unbelieving expressions and spilled glasses. His father and brother broke off their argument and stared at the direction of the two signs. His father immediately called off his brother's trip and dismissed them both, breakfast forgotten.

Before he left, his father's grave voice called him.

"Peeta, I shall speak with you before the twelfth hour of the sun." He turned his head and saw that his father's eyes never left the two signs as he spoke.

"Yes father." He bowed then went out the door.

The palace was buzzing at the turn of events. He was not the only one to have noticed the second sign. By now, he's sure that the whole nation would have seen it, its significance being debated by the scholars, mages, and priests.

The place where he was heading was the last place for peacefulness now that the second sign has appeared. But still, it was the place he intended to go to before even going to breakfast.

The palace's Hall of Reverence was usually tranquil. Its massive pillars, glass ceilings, and large windows lent to the dignified air that hushed those who first saw it into silence. Now he had to weave through the throng of people who were fervently lighting candles and puncturing the solemn air with their murmured prayers to departed ancestors. He reached the side entrance to their family's private chambers a bit breathless.

Inside, Peeta stopped in front of an ornately carved vault on the floor where his brother's ashes rest. He laid a candle and was about to kneel when the door creaked.

He turned towards the noise and saw the old priestess on duty for the morning.

"Apologies for the disturbance my Prince," she quickly bowed when she realized who was inside.

"None at all, Priestess. Please have a seat." He gestured to the pews between them. The wizened priestess did not look well today. Perhaps her years were catching up.

The priestess smiled her thanks at Peeta and spoke. "Your father was quite in shock when I spoke with him earlier. I will assume that the presence of the blood comet is another reason you were drawn here my prince. I've hardly seen you for a year."

"Because the memories have been too painful," he whispered as looked away from her piercing gaze.

After a pause, the priestess asked, "Have you ever visited the Enclave my Prince?"

Peeta furrowed his brows. "I'm afraid not, the impressions given to me were that only the King or the Grand Duke can go to the Enclave, after their coronation."

The priestess cackled and smiled "That was only to prevent young princes running around and getting lost beneath this Hall. Imagine the trouble we'd all be in if a toddler prince indeed were stuck below." She got up and motioned for Peeta to follow her through an old and creaky door.

The deeper they went, the colder it got, and the groan of the door's hinges still bounced on the stone walls. Peeta was glad for his coat but offered it to the tiny, bony priestess instead. She waved him off and told him she was used to the air. Looking around, the Enclave would have indeed been a terrific play place for any young boy. He imagined being lost in any of its winding side halls, fighting imaginary beasts with his wooden sword.

But they walked straight and up ahead he can make out a faint golden light. At the end was a shrine of sorts: a stone tablet encased in glass and cracked at the sides with carved figures and words. The priestess led him to the back of the tablet where another figure was carved. It was a bird, with majestic wings spread out just before flight.

"Do you know the Legend of the Mockingjay my Prince?"

_There!_ That was the legend he was thinking of when he first saw the blood comet.

"I believe my governess may have used it as a bedtime story once or twice." He smiled at the thought.

"What do you remember of it?"

"Not a lot, just that the Mockingjay was a bird of legend in the Dynasty of the Warring Kings almost three thousand years ago. Its coming is heralded by 3 signs and the Mockingjay brings peace to the land."

The priestess corrected him gently.

"Not the whole land Prince Peeta, just ours, the Twelfth Kingdom. It is also prophesized in the legend that the Mockingjay is from another realm and comes to us during auspicious times. The avian figure is merely a symbol our ancestors affixed to the legend. But I suppose the centuries have dulled our faith and relegated such concerns to mere stories that amuse children before they sail to their dreams at night," the priestess's voice trailed to a whisper.

When the priestess spoke again, he heard the strain of her years and the burden of her duties.

"My prince, the reason I brought you here is because you were the first from your anointed family to recognize the second sign. I doubt your father would have taken it seriously, like he did with the blood moon, and your brother would not have been bothered to look around. This stone tablet serves as a reminder of our culture and history to the incoming monarchs when they are crowned. But you, my prince, have never laid eyes on it before yet you did not cast aside the significance of the signs.

"Mistake it not, Prince Peeta: we will be in a time of war. Perhaps not yet but soon. Comets always signal the imminence of war. And it is in the best interest of our Kingdom to have its anointed family remember the wisdom of our history."

And her message brought more chill to his body than the dank air.

* * *

The unexpected meeting with the priestess made him late for his own meeting with the King. But a messenger came by his room to tell him that instead, the King wishes to move their appointment to the late afternoon 3 days from now.

Yet he was still late come that day. Training with the Guard left him drained and he woke up late from a nap. He bowed and apologized profusely as soon as he entered the door to his father's study.

His father was at the fireplace, staring at the crackling fire, and beckoned him to come.

"How was your day, my boy?"

Peeta chuckled. His father had not asked him that since he was seven and would come running to the throne room and launch himself into his father's embrace.

"As fine as any. Some of our vassals are still a nuisance but I channel my frustrations through my sword at the training grounds."

"Could it be Lord Cartwright you were referring to?"

Peeta was careful to not roll his eyes but his father's bemused expression was making it difficult.

"All in a day's work my boy, all in a day's work. You will soon learn more." His father clapped him on the shoulder and smiled sadly.

Then his father exhaled, traced his jaw with his left hand as he always did when matters bothered him, and Peeta knew that with the gestures went the convivial air.

"Now that your brother Aldran is the Grand Duke and the prescribed mourning period for Matthis has elapsed, you shall take over most of Aldran's former responsibilities."

Peeta looked more closely at his father, one side of his face illuminated by the fire. There were graying hairs on his temple and he could make out deeper creases by his father's eyes. The years were catching up to him too, as well as the pressure of governing their land and dealing with the nation's bureaucracy. His coat hung a bit loosely from his loss of weight over Matthis's death.

"Aldran leaves soon for the Capitol to take his seat in the Council. As the Twelfth Kingdom's remaining prince, it is now your duty to oversee the duchies, govern them as you see fit under my guidance, work with the elected officials and nobles, and see to it that our people prosper."

"Yes your Majesty," Peeta accepted his new responsibilities solemnly.

Then the King slowly moved to the lounge chairs by his table and motioned for Peeta to sit. The King's hands were clasped together.

"I have withheld some truth from you my boy. It was necessary at the time but the recent events have moved my better judgment."

"Did the signs have anything to do with the swaying of your resolve?"

"Perhaps. As King, it is wise to heed the counsel of others and I have been advised to educate you more tonight, despite my reservations. What do you know of our nation and its government Peeta?"

He cocked his head to the side. It was an odd question for his father to ask, but he replied with what he knew.

"That our nation was formed three thousand years ago, after the Dynasty of the Warring Kings ended and our King Petrarch brought what remained of the warring kingdoms together to sign the Treaty of Unification. Together, they built a new nation called Panem. The kingdoms still governed their own affairs but a Council was set up to oversee the interests of the nation, with the Council members coming from the monarchs of the respective kingdoms. I have not forgotten your lessons." Peeta smiled but the King's face remained grave as he asked another question.

"What do you know of the current Council Chancellor?"

"Chancellor Coriolanus Snow hails from the Second Kingdom and has led the council for many years—

"Too many, in fact." His father quietly interjected and perplexed Peeta.

"But he was repeatedly voted on by the Council for his exceptional leadership. You yourself instructed Matthis to vote for him last year."

Before facing Peeta, his father inhaled and closed his eyes. Peeta saw the struggle that made his father's shoulders tense.

"I'm afraid, my son, that I will now burden you with the intricacies of politics within our Kingdom and beyond our borders. Forgive me. It is a father's distress to watch his sons be embroiled in such matters, especially since I had other hopes for you, being far in line to the throne."

The King lowered his voice as he spoke more, as though they were in danger of being overheard.

"The Twelfth Kingdom voted for the retention of the Chancellor because we cannot afford him to know what we have planned with the other kingdoms. Other kings are also restless at his brazen grip on power yet the people seem to approve of his political direction. Though the man is not without his merits, Peeta. I do not wish for you to paint the wrong picture. Chancellor Snow indeed strengthened our nation but the price we paid for it is the corruption of our systems."

The King stood up and paced the room as he gathered his thoughts before speaking again.

"Do you remember what I told you? That our power is to be wielded for the benefit of the people we derive our duties from. Under Chancellor Snow, there has been an added element to these duties in the form of monetary tributes. This nation does not move forward if the required weight of gold has not been met and stored in the vaults of those in office. Bickering ministers and monarchs are not new; our history is filled with their squabbles. But Chancellor Snow brought a more crafty system with his ascent to power."

Peeta was silenced by his father's revelation. He and his brothers used tell people that, apart from their father, they would want to be like the Chancellor when they grew up: strong, astute, and undaunted. Had he been naïve all this time? Cooped up and sheltered in his vast palace and unaware of the political entanglements outside. No system was perfect, he knew, but realizing just how much of the nation's political dealings were foreign to him churned his stomach in a painful way. The depths he had to scale looked unfathomable. No books or tutors could have taught him what he was learning tonight.

The silence stretched on and it was his father that broke it with an even heavier voice laced with pain.

"Gold and poison, rather, move the nation forward."

The air hung heavy. He realized with dread that there were some things he still did not want to hear.

"Peeta, your brother Matthis did not die from an accident. Many of my informers and confidants believe, as do myself, that he was poisoned. I had his body burned and his ashes brought back to not let any suspicion arise."

Peeta listened with sickening rapt though his veins felt cold and his father's words wrapped around his throat.

"When I rushed to the Capitol upon hearing of his death, I had my doubts. But they were erased when I saw your brother's blue lips and the veins straining purple against his skin in death."

"Are you saying that the Chancellor is behind Matthis's death?"

"I am saying that we have been warned. Some ministry men close to the Chancellor did not favor your brother. We have always been one of the more vocal members of the Council and known to oppose the Chancellor at critical times. That certainly did not help the cup your brother drank from."

Peeta felt a dull hurt when his father stopped. The image of the nation changed before his mind and not being included in critical matters angered him and it joined the humiliation he felt over his naivety. The fire in the room was now too hot and the sweat made the clothes on his back stick.

His father excused himself to go to bed early, breaking the prolonged silence, but before he retired, he turned to Peeta with eyes bereft of apology yet filled with calm steadiness and said,

"You have always been curious, my boy. This is simply to remind you to keep your eyes open."

* * *

When she got back home after passing by Madge's place to get the gift they were making for Prim's birthday, Aunt Effie was waiting for her in the living room.

"I'm home." She called out.

"Oh there you are. Gone out with prince charming yet?" Aunt Effie loved to draw out the wicked fun in teasing her. Katniss replied with a stony expression but her aunt was unperturbed.

"Hang on, I got something for you dear." Aunt Effie opened the drawer of the table beside the sofa and pulled out a tiny black box.

"I found it while I was cleaning."

Katniss opened the small velvet box and picked up a golden locket with an ornate bird poised to fly etched in the front. It looked vintage.

"It's beautiful, thank you Aunt Effie."

"It was your mother's. We bought it in a flea market the summer before she met your father. I thought of giving it to Prim for her birthday but this should be your early graduation present."

Katniss looked up and smirked "Won't this jinx my chances?"

"Oh not at all, but it might help with young Stanislaus's fortune with you."

At the mention of his name, she turned on her heels and went up the stairs as Aunt Effie called out "Your mom said that was her love life's lucky charm!"

"Ugh!" she shouted as she entered her room and shut the door to block out her Aunt's laughter.

She sat on the bed and opened her locket, the delicate chain slipping between her fingers. She was hoping for a photo of her mother and father but it was hollow save for an inscription.

Katniss asked her Aunt Effie about it the next day but she just laughed it off and called the inscription a "funky poem."

She opened it again the following night, after helping Prim with her homework, and recited the words in the locket written in a cadence unfamiliar to her.

Upon the last syllable, the locket glowed red and burned through her palm. She tried to scream as she smelled her burning flesh but her mouth was petrified and she can only watch as the searing, glowing heat from her hand spread through her arm, then her torso, down her legs, then back up her chest and neck. And just before it engulfed her face, before she passed out from the pain, she was blinded by a burst of white light.

* * *

Dinner the following night with Aldran and his father was awkward. He presumed Aldran knew of what happened to Matthis already. They were dining beneath the sky again, just like the breakfast they had when they saw the blood comet.

After dinner, they said their goodbyes and proceeded to their affairs. Peeta went back to his room to write his thoughts. He sketched a bit of Matthis too, his laughing, murdered brother that he missed terribly. The clock on his study, made by Matthis himself for Peeta's thirteenth birthday, told him it was time to retire for bed.

Just as he was about to set down his paper and charcoal, screams erupted from the grounds. Peeta went out the doors to the balcony to see the sky scarlet. Panic made it hard to breathe and think but he recalled the Legend of the Mockingjay more fully. His mind offered no other explanation. There in the night sky, together with the blood moon and the blood comet, all too soon, was the third sign of the legend's prophesy: the bloody aurora was moving in ominous waves across the kingdom.

He ran out of his room. His feet knew where to go as he passed by the pillars of the Hall of Reverence and into his family chamber. Running down the cold steps of the Enclave, he dashed to the Mockingjay Tablet. He rubbed his eyes to see if what he was seeing was a trick. Some of the inscriptions of the tablet were illuminated. He moved closer to read them. It was difficult to understand because the language was from a different time and his tongue was not used to its rhythm. Mesmerized, he recited the inscription aloud a second time.

Then a blinding white light burst from the tablet and Prince Peeta fell to the ground.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Why hello there! Thank you for reading till the end, I am truly grateful for that. Since this is my first fan fiction, I would appreciate it terribly if you let me know what you think I have already outlined the whole story and have even written the ending (but not all chapters in between yet) so rest assured I will update regularly and finish this.

This fic is an AU. Katniss lives in our world and Peeta's in another, wonderful realm of monarchs, legends, and prophecies coming true. My love for history will be evident in the chapters to come.

Did you notice the titles of some of the characters? They're not mine. I merely lifted them from history and TV (you can take a guess which one belongs to where).

And before I forget, here goes the disclaimer: The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Mild adult language below. Just a little warning everyone! And this chapter is quite long.**

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 2**

**Alternate Title: The Summoned Mockingjay and Her Misadventures**

Katniss's first thought was that she could breathe again without the smell of burned flesh assaulting her nose.

And there was the absence of the pain as well.

She tested if her motor movements are back with a wiggle of her toe. They were, and something tickled at her feet.

It felt like she had been asleep for a long time. Surely Aunt Effie would be knocking at her door soon and she'd be arguing with Prim over first dibs at their shared bathroom.

But the smell around her was earthy and the air too cold. Had she left the window open? She did not remember even walking around her room last night.

Katniss turned to her left and the light was suddenly too bright and painful to her eyes that it made her see white spots.

She remembered a bright light from her dream. She turned back right and opened her eyes. The golden stalks of grass disoriented her. Did she somehow fall to the garden during sleep? And when did Aunt Effie plant ridiculously tall grasses in their yard?

She moved her hand and something cold pressed against her skin. She sat up and saw the locket, looking innocuous in her palm. The locket mesmerized her with the dancing rays of the sun that glinted on it.

It's hard to imagine that the last thought she associated with the locket was pain. But oddly, pain was the farthest thing she was feeling now. She felt wonderful, and light, like the wind can blow right through her and she would fly with it. It was the same when she dreamt, where the burden of realities were forbidden. Her thoughts were bumping against each other in her mind until they formed an incoherent stream and she did not bother with them anymore. Yes, perhaps she awoke into another dream. That already happened to her before anyway.

She got up and found that the tall golden grasses were almost her height and some stalks were even taller than her. They were pale gold with delicate, upward-pointed tips. She touched one tip and the small white spores attached to the edge burst with the wind.

_How delightful!_ She giggled as she watched the white spores dance in the wind.

She twirled to catch the others that flew in the other direction. The light felt warm on her skin. Her tummy grumbled, but it was not of any importance now. What was important was that she find another tip, and poke it, and watch its spores tumble in the wind! And the golden field stretched endlessly for what seemed like miles, which meant more spores for her to play with.

She was on her fourth stalk when she heard a faint melody behind her. There were distant mountains to her front, beyond the golden field, and dotted with bright orange and red trees.

They looked like fire trees, she thought, thinking of those tall trees with wiry branches ending in small leaves and bright red flowers that line her childhood neighborhood, setting the streets ablaze in their fiery color when they rose to their peak in the season.

But the sound was to her back so she should go there. She affixed the locket around her neck and walked towards the woods. The shorter stalks of grass tickled her bare back and she let out a small giggle at the sensation.

The sound was getting louder and she could make out more pronounced words wherever it was coming from. The ground was cooler beneath her in the woods, softer, and molded to the contours of her feet. The woods were peaceful and silent. Only the rays of the sun pierced the canopy and shed soft light between the golden leaves of the trees. There were bushes here and there with plump berries of every color that she longed to burst them in her mouth. She picked a dark one, less shiny than the others, and was about to plop it in when a gentle breeze whipped past her and the berry fell from her palm to the ground. She turned and saw a small, dark-haired figure clothed in gossamer.

She was a young girl, and that joyful sparkle in her unusually large eyes reminded her of Prim's laughter. Katniss smiled at the figure and the girl smiled back. She walked slowly towards Katniss, her finger pointing at Katniss' chest until she touched the locket.

Her lips did not move but Katniss heard the word "treasured" echo in the same soft melody around them.

"Is it coming from you? The sound?" Katniss asked.

The girl smiled and gently nodded. Then she turned and sprinted and stopped after a short distance to beckon Katniss to follow her.

Katniss heard the soft peals of bells around her as she ran too and she laughed as the wind swayed her hair back. She had never felt this light and carefree since her childhood, when she and her father would play. Or when her mother would do her hair in the morning before going to school.

The young girl stopped at a brook and knelt in the bed of flowers by its edge. Katniss did the same and looked at her reflection in the water. Her hair was wavy at it fell around her shoulders and the locket seemed to be glowing against her bare chest. She turned towards the girl and saw that she has cupped water in her hands. She blew this towards Katniss and Katniss closed her eyes, anticipating the cold drops of water. Instead, a cool mist hit her and she opened her eyes and saw the golden mist heading towards her from the girl's hands. A tickling feeling settled over her head, skin, and body where the mist landed.

Then she saw the girl open her mouth to speak.

"Such glad tidings you bring Mockingjay."

_What was a Mockingjay?_ Katniss thought. Her silent question must have reflected on her face because the girl giggled and replied,

"You are the Mockingjay."

"No, my name is Katniss," she smiled.

The girl giggled some more and pointed at her locket and whispered "Mockingjay" again.

"Is that what you call humans here?"

"No," the girl said.

"So what is a Mockingjay?"

"You."

Katniss sighed at that reply. They were not going anywhere with this. She missed that carefree feeling she had back when they were running. She had an idea.

"Ok, can we play now?"

The girl laughed and nodded her head and moved so fast that a second later was the only time that Katniss realized that the girl was running.

Katniss stood up and ran after the girl. This part of the forest seemed livelier than the part where she met the girl. She could see furry little creatures poking their heads from beneath the ground to look at them. The soothing melody was back and the air thrummed with it. She laughed when the furry creatures started following them and playing with them. They looked like bunnies and puppies but their fur had golden glints at the tips.

They stopped at a small meadow inside the forest. It felt magical to Katniss, what with the soft light from above and the colorful buds at their feet. The furry creatures joined them too, encircling the two as they held hands and began to move faster and faster in a circle. Katniss was delighted that she was not getting dizzy, not like when she and Prim would do this. They collapsed to the ground, side by side, sending petals floating to the air and Katniss was trying to catch her breath when one of the puppies jumped enthusiastically at her and began licking her face. She laughed at the warm, velvety feeling and tickled the puppy.

All too soon, the girl rose and told Katniss to follow her.

"Where are we going?"

"Near others, like you."

Katniss followed the girl out the meadow and back to another part of the forest. There were no furry creatures here and the air was silent as they walked. They passed by snares with trapped and dead animals and Katniss let out a soft cry. The girl comforted her and said that it was all right. She does not grieve for them for life moves in cycles.

The girl led her to a pond. Katniss sat by the edge once again and looked at the girl. She was smiling at Katniss a bit sadly. Then the girl burst into golden dust that startled Katniss. There was a buzzing to her right and she saw the girl once again, but tinier and with gossamer wings. She whispered to Katniss that she will see her again and disappeared.

* * *

He wanted to check the snares he left before they departed for the Capitol. Though he was fed well in the palace and there was never a shortage of food, he found that his taste preferred the gamey kind, not the farm-raised ones. He happily stuffed his haul of three rabbits, four squirrels, and a lone wild chicken in his game bag and set off once again out the forest. His long trek made him thirsty so he went to the direction of a pond he once came across.

He was busily hacking at the shrubs with his hunting sword that he did not notice a girl huddled near the pond. When he looked up, she was looking at him. He turned red when he realized that the girl had nothing on but thankfully her back was to him.

It was the oddest thing he came across in his life, a naked girl in a forest.

He cleared his throat to get her attention.

She had already turned her head back to the pond but was now looking again at him after he cleared his throat. He was unprepared for her motion to stand up and was painfully exposed to him as she walked and stopped before him. It took him a second to look away but the damage her curves had done felt very real now. The temptation to look again was strong but he resisted as he put down his game bag, shook his hunting coat off, and tried to put it on the girl without looking too much at her directly. He managed to get her covered decently when he looked again.

She was frail, with wavy dark hair, and expressive grey eyes. The hand that tentatively reached for the coat was shivering. She looked curiously at him and tilted her head to the side. Something was changing in her eyes though, like a clearing mist. Then they turned a steely color and that was the last thing he remembered before a closed fist hit him in the jaw and the girl was running away with his coat.

* * *

Prince Peeta didn't remember going back to his room yet he felt the plush pillows his head rested on, the warmth of the duvets, and the firm mattress beneath him. The sun was already out and harshly falling over his closed eyes.

Then a cool hand touched his forehead and someone called his name.

He opened his eyes and saw a pair of blue ones smiling back.

"Delly?" He mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"Shhhh. Your Privy Gentlemen brought you here after they were alerted by the priestess."

Peeta sat up, rolled his head around, and looked at the lady by his bed.

He smiled. "Now who did you trick to get in here Lady Cartwright?"

"Lest you forget, my brother is a member of the Guard. I have eyes on every wall." Delly winked and motioned to the side door.

"Breakfast is over there." Then she got up and kissed Peeta's forehead.

Peeta stretched his arms and proceeded to get dressed.

There was a modest breakfast laid out in the salon adjacent to his room. Delly was already seated and sipping her tea.

"To what do I owe this pleasure Lady Cartwright?" Peeta started as he settled onto his seat.

Delly put her cup down.

"Why, is there a proclamation preventing old friends from visiting old friends before they embark on an arduous journey to another court?" Her cheeks dimpled with a small smile.

"Surely there are other gentlemen deserving of that honor."

Lady Cartwright threw a thumb-sized fruit at him and he laughed.

"So which court shall be graced by your shining presence?" He mocked.

"Oh stop it Peeta."

He smiled a bit and began to serve Delly the delicate pastries laid out before them. Some were his favorite, like the flaky, chocolate-filled roll or the sweet cloud puff Delly was munching on now. They ate in companionable silence. It was different from how they used to be when they always tried to fill conversations even if the words were hollow.

But now there were farewells that paused on his lips as he watched Delly look out the window and drink in the scene. The sunlight always touched parts of her face that made her glow. He exhaled wistfully, purging himself of any doubt of the decision to part a year ago. But looking at Delly now, he understood that it was always harder on her.

Lady Cartwright turned to face him.

"I am finally heeding your word." She said with a sad smile before she looked down bashfully and bit her lip.

Peeta remembered that it was he who suggested that she visit another court to make the coping easier. It will be beneficial to her too since it never hurt to make acquaintances and connections.

"It took you long enough, if I may say so. The blood moon had to return to its former state before you vaulted into action," he teased as he broke a roll and dipped it in the hot, silky chocolate.

"And you always never heeded me anyways. I have uncanny foresight for these matters you know," he joked haughtily.

When they finished eating, Lady Cartwright touched his hand that was on the table as she held his gaze.

"I will miss you Peeta." She whispered and he could see the beginnings of salty tears in her eyes.

He stood up when she did, and watched as she took soft steps toward him, pausing a hand's length from his chest.

She reached up to thread her hand on his hair and stopped at his cheek. Peeta touched the hand on his face, and closed his eyes as he felt bittersweet stirrings in his chest that were more for the memories than the thought of their farewell.

"No one in the Fifth Kingdom can ever match your blonde eyelashes my Prince."

And they both laughed softly at their old joke. When they stilled, Lady Cartwright once again whispered for his permission for one more favor.

"May I take one with me?" she said as she tilted her head.

Peeta closed his eyes and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips as he ran a finger down her cheek.

When he opened his eyes, he pressed his forehead to her and softly said goodbye.

And everything was once again changing. He was saying goodbye to a dear friend the morning after the signs shattered the peaceful lull of his kingdom and leaving uncertainty in its wake.

He watched in silence as she went out the door, the sunlight shining bright on the delicate beads of her dress.

* * *

_What the fuck?!_

Katniss's hand throbbed and she wanted to scream as the humiliation settled on her. What she thought was a dream was painfully the opposite. Thin branches of bushes were scratching her calf as she ran but she did not care. She had to get away from that man she just landed her right hook on. Then she realized she had no clue where to go and that man may have one.

She stopped and looked if he followed her. She was alone in the woods. She had been feeling exceptionally good until the fairy left. Katniss looked around to see if anything felt familiar to her. Her father brought her to the woods near their house when she was young but the trees here were foreign to her.

_Where am I?_

She tried to painfully recall the events that happened. There was the pond, then the meadow with the creatures, then and the forest with a melody. It seemed silly to her now as she thought about the things she did, like running around stark naked.

Then she remembered the field then,

_The locket!_

She looked down at the golden locket and remembered all the pain it caused her before she passed out in her room.

And then she was here.

She felt tears of frustration leak down, whimpering as she knelt to the ground and covered her head.

_Where the hell am I?_ She almost moaned it aloud then she heard footsteps behind her.

She was trying to calm down before her hyperventilation takes over her then blind panic would come afterwards.

_Please, please, I would rather endure triple Calculus everyday if I could just be back…_

"My lady?"

She whipped her head back and saw the man she punched. She eyed him warily. After all, not a lot of men take too kindly to physical injury.

She stood and tried to adjust the coat she had on when she realized she could not possibly do this without exposing herself again. The man seemed to sense her discomfort and turned.

"Perhaps the lady wishes to clothe herself more fully."

She scowled at him even though his back was turned as she put on the coat more snugly against her when he began to speak again.

"I would offer my assistance but my unfortunate jaw cannot take another beating."

"I'm decent."

The man turned and their eyes met.

"I would like to apologize my lady for my earlier behavior. The moment has been most inopportune and dare I say that you took me by surprise. I mean no disrespect. And if I may, I would like to again offer my assistance to ease any discomfiture you have gained from our interaction."

Katniss's mouth hung open sometime during the middle of his speech.

_He speaks funny_, she thought.

He was waiting for her to respond so she cleared her throat before looking at him again. Better start with the simplest, most pressing matter then.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the South Forest of the Twelfth Kingdom of Panem my lady. Not a very safe place for a lady such as yourself to be dallying in alone."

"Kingdom?" She sputtered out in a squeak. She wanted to clear her ear to see if what she heard was right. But that would probably disgust this man.

"Why yes my lady."

"What's Panem?" She followed up quickly.

"It is what we call the collective union of the Twelve Kingdoms to which our kingdom belongs. We are governed by King Owain while a Council oversees Panem."

This was all too much for her to digest. She inhaled heavily through her nose and looked around when the man spoke again and began to approach her. She took a step back instinctively.

"My lady, it is best that we move now while there is still light and the hours of the moon have not arrived. You may have misgivings but I sincerely hope that you have accepted my apology. I do want to help you and I swear on my honor that I will not do anything untoward."

She nodded and asked, "What's your name?"

He smiled and introduced himself as Lord Gale Hawthorne, a Privy Gentleman of the Grand Duke.

She replied with her own.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen."

Her own introduction was amusingly insipient next to this Lord Hawthorne but she could care less. She extended her right hand to shake his but was surprised when Lord Hawthorne folded her hand, raised it, and brushed her knuckles to his lips.

"I am honored to meet you my Lady Everdeen," he murmured.

Katniss giggled and snorted in a very un-lady-like manner at the surprising gesture. This was the stuff of Prim's dreams, not hers! But she can't deny that it made her feel giddy.

Lord Hawthorne still had her hand in his when he began to lead her out the forest. The handholding made Katniss uncomfortable and she finally could not take it and asked Lord Hawthorne _why_ he was still holding her hand. Lord Hawthorne gave her a look, brow furrowed, which said he did not understand why she was questioning it. But what about the brambles, he said, or the uneven forest floor. It would not do for her to trip. He was merely helping to make the journey less cumbersome for her, to which Katniss had no reply.

He did not let go until they reached his horse, a formidable-looking chestnut beauty. He asked permission if he could lift her onto the saddle.

Now this posed another tricky situation, Katniss thought. There was no way she was spreading her legs and sitting on that dirty saddle. On the other hand, she did not want to be rude to Lord Hawthorne when he had been nothing but gentlemanly and helpful to her.

Lord Hawthorne seemed to sense her hesitation and explained to her that she'll be riding side-saddled, with a hint of blush on his cheeks.

"Not to worry my lady, we will just be trotting and not running to make it less uncomfortable for you. My younger sister always complains about riding side-saddled."

And with that, he hoisted her onto the horse, affixed his game bag, and mounted.

He took her hands and placed them on his hips and it was Katniss's turn to blush when she felt his hard muscles beneath the shirt.

She spent most of the time trying to not fall off the trotting beast.

"How are you faring my Lady Everdeen?"

"Please, just call me Katniss. That's what they call me back home."

"And where is your home, if I may ask?"

It was only then she realized that Lord Hawthorne was indeed true to his word that he will not make her uncomfortable, that the pace of their acquaintanceship was up to her, and that included questions about where she came from or why he found her naked by a pond. She decided to test the waters to see how far he may be receptive to the story of her true origins.

"Far, far away, my Lord Hawthorne."

"And how far is this 'far, far away' home of yours?"

"Really far." To which Lord Hawthorne sighed.

"My lady, I really do wish to help you. If you are in danger from another kingdom or if ruffians are chasing you, please, I beg you, tell me. I can help you. It may be too much to ask for your trust but I am."

Katniss was staring stonily out to the mountains as he said this. He sounded sincere and if he indeed wished to harm her he had plenty of opportunities already.

_Ok, here we go._

"Do you promise to keep an open mind Lord Hawthorne? And will you let me finish before asking me questions?"

"As you wish, my lady."

_Show time._

"I don't think I'm from this world Lord Hawthorne." She began quietly.

"Wherever this Panem is, it's not where I come from. The trees are never this red, orange, or yellow, I've never heard of golden fields or Panem, and we don't travel on horses anymore. I don't know how else to say this but I just woke up here, in a field of tall, pale gold grass and I walked to the forest then to the pond where you found me. I was in a daze, I thought I was just dreaming and then you were there."

She omitted the part of the fairy and the furry creatures. She did not want to be unceremoniously shoved from the moving horse.

"That's a very original story my lady."

"I'm not lying, and it's Katniss please. Besides, you agreed to have an open mind."

"Yes indeed. Do I have your permission to ask my queries now Lady Katniss?"

Katniss let out a puff of air. _Oh boy, at least it's progress from Lady Everdeen._

"Yes you have my permission Lord Hawthorne."

"How did you get here then?"

"You promise not to stop and leave me all alone if I tell you?" Katniss asked in a small voice.

Lord Hawthorne let out a throaty laugh and asked her to continue.

"I think it's my locket. My aunt gave it to me as a gift. It once belonged to my mother. I opened it and read the inscription inside out loud then boom! I'm here."

Lord Hawthorne was quiet and Katniss was thinking the worse. _Oh well_, she thought. She'd rather walk anyway than continue riding side-saddled. It was making her lower back crick.

"Where are we going?" She asked when he did not say anything.

"To my home. I surmise you must be in dire want of clothing that fits you well instead of my hunting coat."

"So you believe me?" It was too much to hope for. She wouldn't believe herself if she were in Lord Hawthorne's place. But she was thankful that so far, everything was good. She knows she could have done a lot worse than honorable Lord Hawthorne.

"May I see that locket of yours Lady Katniss? When we arrive at my home?"

"Sure. How far do we still need to go?"

"Not very far. My home is halfway between the city and the forest."

"Ooh do you live in a castle?"

Lord Hawthorne chuckled. "No, my lady, but I do wish the comforts it can offer will be to your satisfaction."

She sighed. _Why does he keep talking like that? _It's not as if she can reply in the same manner.

She noticed when they entered the property. It was certainly different from the untrimmed forest she had been looking at earlier. The trees were lined perfectly and the bushes were neatly shaped. There was no mud either but a smooth, sandy road that bore a multitude of horse hoof prints. She turned to see a tall and broad stone house with imposing pillars but they did not stop there.

Katniss asked Lord Hawthorne why and he replied that he would rather they pass by the side entrance so the servants would not see her.

"Attention seems to be a sore point with you Lady Katniss." She rolled her eyes at that.

They stopped and he carried her down. He took her hand again and led her to the house.

They entered a handsome room lined to the ceiling with books and dotted with plush sofas and chairs. The late afternoon sun shone through large windows and Katniss saw the sprawling, manicured lawn that fronted the estate.

Lord Hawthorne excused himself after looking at her locket and said he will have a servant bring her food while he speaks with his lady mother.

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled noisily, and Lord Hawthorne smirked at her.

* * *

_It can't be_, he thought, as he raced up the steps to his mother's study.

It was an old preposterous tale that was confined to childhood and nothing more. But the girl sounded truthful. He was straining to hear any lying lilt as she relayed her story but he found none. The locket was another proof.

His lady mother was teaching his youngest sister when he entered. Her governess had been ill so his mother substituted for now.

He bowed as he entered the room. His sister ran towards him and he threw her around in an embrace.

"You're baaaack!"

He laughed at her energetic greeting and put her down. But his little sister did not let go of his neck and she dangled from him.

"Posy, might I speak with mother for a moment? I promise to tell you our usual stories afterwards." He pinched her nose for good measure. Posy giggled and left for her room.

He turned to his mother and he did not know where to begin. He was pacing the room back and forth as his mother patiently watched.

"Mother, I have a girl downstairs in need of clothes and rest and a multitude of other things before I take her to the palace."

Lady Hawthorne sipped her tea as she looked to her eldest. He inherited his serious demeanor from his father's father. He rarely frets and she was rather enjoying watching her serious-mannered boy act like this.

"Well, we will need to have her measurements taken first—"

"We must move with haste, Mother. I need to present her to the king tomorrow as we depart for the Capitol the day after. I think she's the Mockingjay." Lord Hawthorne told his mother what happened earlier.

Lady Hawthorne set her cup down, folded her gloved hands on her lap, and spoke.

"The Mockingjay is merely an oral story about a feathered animal—"

"A legend."

"—passed from priests and governesses to their charges for years. How are you so sure about this? There are many desperate, disreputable women out there who will tell a two-bit story in exchange for any comfort."

"The signs Mother, the blood moon, that scarlet comet, and the red aurora. And if her timing is correct, the signs disappeared when she said she appeared here, which was this morning. I heard from the servants that the comet burst into many falling streaks across the sky before dawn and is nowhere to be found now. And I am sure the moon will not shine red tonight."

"Do you have proof other than the girl's story?"

"She said she has a locket. That it's the one that brought her here. Etched in it is a bird, Mother, a Mockingjay, and an inscription."

Lady Hawthorne gave her son a pointed look and exhaled deeply.

"You are aware of what is at stake should you decide to pursue the matter of presenting her to the King. He's still very much shaken after what happened to the first Grand Duke and he will not tolerate any tall tales, never mind that you are a part of the Privy Chamber. As we speak, there are probably hundreds of other girls that are readying to present themselves as the Mockingjay in the hopes of catching a better life. And there is the matter of the family honor!"

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled. Technically, as he had inherited his father's title already, he was in charge of the family. But of course, his mother still played an important role in his life and he included her in consequential decisions. He spoke slowly.

"I will operate under the manner of extreme discretion Mother. Please, I need your blessing before I proceed. I do believe the girl is telling the truth."

It was Lady Hawthorne's turn to want to pinch the bridge of her nose as her stubborn son pressed on. After a long pause, she replied.

"I will need to see her first, as well as that locket, before I give my permission."

* * *

The palace had seen more commotion this week than when news of the first Grand Duke's demise reached them. The appearance of the signs as well as its sudden disappearance had sent the priests and mages into a flurry of convocations and debates and scholarly searches.

The old priestess, who never bothered with such cumbersome meetings, had just lighted the thin candle laid in front of the Protector's symbol when a figure stood beside her.

"Perhaps it is in my better interest that I light one for myself too, don't you think Priestess Sae?"

She looked to see the Grand Duke looking up at the stone symbol before them.

The priestess smiled and offered Prince Aldran a candle.

"I suppose the Sect feels vindicated that the legend possesses truth to itself. The signs cannot have been a coincidence." Prince Aldran spoke softly. He was past believing such stories at the turn of age when he started pursuing the young ladies in the kingdom.

The priestess softly laughed. "Until the being presents itself, the recent events are exactly as you put them my Prince, a coincidence."

It was Prince Aldran's turn to smile at the Priestess's response as he got the light of another candle to start the flame in his.

"But I know my Prince, that the advent of such events are still difficult to accept for most of the court. After all, what place do legends have when power, money, and jewels fill the concerns of the nobility? We were never one to worry though, as we have faith in the course set out for each of us."

"Faith."

He tested the word in his tongue.

"I have not heard that word for some time Priestess."

"Well you best reacquaint with it, my Prince, what with the place you are about to embark for and all."

Aldran watched as the priestess turned and left, after bowing their respects to one another, her motions slowed by the years her body carried. After a hasty prayer, Aldran departed the Hall of Reverence and looked for his brother.

It was not difficult to find Peeta. In the afternoons, his carefree brother spends his time in the inner gardens of the royal residences. Peeta was at his usual spot but he was brooding and lacking the art instruments he was usually surrounded with.

He had been meaning to talk to his brother. Surely the revelations of the King have shaken Peeta, much like the way it disconcerted him when his father confided after Matthis's death.

The inner gardens were tranquil. There were no throngs of people and no bustling servants to add to the noise. Aldran sat beside Peeta under the shady tree, like they did as children. But to Peeta's right was the gaping absence of their brother. They were both thinking the same thing because neither said anything for some time, just content with having the wind chime in their ears.

"I assume, with my impending leave, that our Lord Father must have told you about Matthis."

Peeta's expression remained stony as he squared his shoulders, very unlike the jolly brother Aldran knew him to be.

"You have to understand Father's reasons, Peeta."

Peeta stood abruptly and faced Aldran. His expression was steely and Aldran could see the hurt in the way Peeta's lips formed a grim line.

"Why? Because I am the third, inconsequential son so far away from the throne? That I was the spare of the spare that didn't deserve the truth?"

He let the spare gibe slide and replied calmly.

"Because father, in his naïve thinking, hoped that you can grow up without having to deal with all of this fucked up mess. It took mother away from him, and then Matthis. The old man was clinging to the hope of keeping you unsullied—"

"Ignorant!"

"—innocent, of the tangled mess of lies and deceit so that maybe one day, when he chooses his heir for our kingdom, it will be a person of unquestionable integrity."

Peeta's fist was still clenched but Aldran pressed on.

"Father, Matthis, and soon myself, have been left with no choice but to be embroiled in the Chancellor's web and we have to fight him with his own machinations, but Father hopes for something better for the future of our kingdom."

Aldran was looking at Peeta but his brother would not meet his eyes.

"Then why did you not tell me, as a brother?" Peeta whispered.

Aldran smiled sadly. "Because I'm also a prince of this land, bound by the orders of my King."

* * *

They departed for the city the following day. Katniss was thankful that Lady Hawthorne made them use the carriage and gave her the dresses meant for Lady Posy when she comes of age. She was surprised when she saw the sheer volume and magnificence of the dresses and thanked the lady of the house profusely. She dined in merriment the night before with Lord Hawthorne's family and she slept well with a full stomach in the enormous bed with feather-tipped posters. But Katniss could feel that Lord Hawthorne was keeping something from her and she itched to know what.

The silence in the carriage was maddening that she could not resist poking around the matter.

"What are you not telling me Lord Hawthorne? You've barely spoken and looked at me."

He turned to her and said "Apologies if I seem aloof my lady. I am merely preoccupied."

"May I… know what… occupies your thoughts?" _I suck at this formality._

"Well the matter is proving to be more complicated than I thought now that I am breaking down the steps.

"I may have withheld matters from you my lady but I will reveal them in due time. I have my reasons for doing so but I need your trust. Right now, after we arrive at the palace, I will speak to the priestess in the Hall of Reverence to ask her about the Legend of the Mockingjay."

Mockingjay. _Mockingjay_. That's what the fairy called her!

"Mockingjay? I've heard that before. What is a Mockingjay?"

Lord Hawthorne raised his eyebrow at her. "Where did you hear it?"

Irked at being kept in the dark, Katniss retorted "Lord Hawthorne, I may have withheld matters from you but I will reveal them in due time. I have my reasons for doing so."

"Why I never thought such formalities in speech would become you Lady Katniss." Lord Hawthorne teased in return.

She narrowed her eyes. "Lord Hawthorne, you're not the one who got transplanted to another realm, naked as the day you were born. I think I can take whatever it is you have to say."

Lord Hawthorne stared at her for a long time, judging her, but gave in and relayed to Katniss what he knew of the Legend of the Mockingjay, how it was supposed to bring peace to the kingdom, and how he suspects her to be the Mockingjay. He also delved on how the signs have played a role and affected the current mood of the kingdom, and how he still has not exactly figured out how he will reveal her to the king, the court, and to the priests and priestess.

Katniss blanched at what he said then expelled a hearty laugh. Her? Some sort of legendary harbinger of peace? He made it sound so clinical and simple! But when the laughter died, she was feeling a panic attack and before she threw up her breakfast at Lord Hawthorne's splendid attire, she screamed for the carriage to stop. When her companion just looked at her, she motioned for the door and Lord Hawthorne had the carriage halted.

She jumped off and ran into the grass and knelt a few feet from the carriage, hugging herself and breathing copious amounts of air.

_This is not good_, she thought. Some providential being somewhere made a mistake! It can't be her. She could not even keep a bunny alive that her sister gave her for more than a week.

Someone sat on the grass beside her and she turned to see Lord Hawthorne looking at her. There was a hint of concern and pity in his eyes that she did not like. No matter how much she doubted that she's the girl for the job, she cannot stand being pitied and treated with too much care. It was this thought that made her calm down, sneaking looks here and there and at Lord Hawthorne.

When Katniss was finally breathing normally, she turned to look forward as she seated more comfortably, closed her eyes, and felt the light breeze playing with her hair.

"Lady Katniss,"

"It's just Katniss, _please_." Katniss replied, annoyed.

"If it makes you more comfortable then… Katniss." Lord Hawthorne tentatively tested the less formal name he was unaccustomed to using.

"I want to go _home_ Lord Hawthorne," Katniss suddenly said in a small voice, like a petty child.

She saw that Lord Hawthorne was trying to suppress a smile.

"It's Gale then. If I get to call you Katniss, please call me Gale. Now for the matter of bringing you home, I'm sorry to say this Katniss but what you may have not realized is that your going home is conditional to the fulfillment of the Mockingjay's duty, if you are the Mockingjay, which I believe you are."

"But I'm not fit for the job!" She kicked at the grass for good measure.

"Saving a kingdom is not something I learn regularly in the History period at school."

Then it clicked.

"Oh my god, are you at _war_? Is that why you need some legendary being to bring peace?" Katniss croaked out and turned with accusing eyes to Gale, who was looking at her with an emotion she cannot read.

"There are whispers of it; a sigh of discontent in one kingdom and another shout of grievance in the next but nothing that burns long enough. The kingdoms have not forgotten their lessons from our history. Our king will not allow the devastation of war to be brought upon to his people.

"But even though these matters are beyond my control, I gave you my word, Katniss, that no harm shall come to you. And I intend on keeping it. It's perfectly all right to be frightened." Gale finished softly and Katniss noticed for the first time how gently his eyes moved when whispering or how the breeze sweeps his hair into his high forehead. Lord Hawthorne, Gale, was quite dreamy and pleasant to look at.

She exhaled shakily and replied "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it Katniss. I took this upon myself and I shall see it until the end."

Katniss looked down and whispered in frustration. "But I still don't know how I'm going about this? How exactly will I fulfill this Mockingjay thing when I don't know where to start?"

Gale smiled. "Which is why we should be proceeding to the city and the palace. The multitude of priests and scholars there should be of help to our cause."

"What if they ask too much? What if I can't do it? I don't like to fail." _Or die_, she thought, as she pulled the dried grass at her side.

"See, you already accepted the responsibility," said Gale.

Katniss threw the grass at him.

"We shall take it a step at a time then. If you are uncomfortable with anything they ask of you, I shall speak on your behalf. Nobody shall force you into something you are uncomfortable with."

"Oh really? You got some clout in court we can test?" Katniss sniggered as she looked at Gale picking off the dried grass in his hair.

"Maybe for the priests, but I would not test the king's patience. I value the neck my head rests on." It was Gale's turn to smirk as the smile was wiped off Katniss' face.

He got up and offered a hand to Katniss and led her back to the carriage so they may get on their way. The sprawling city loomed in the distance, along with the faint spires of a palace high on a hill, and she shuddered at what awaited her.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Hi again! Thanks very much for reading!

I would also like to thank those who read and those who reviewed the last chapter. Your kind words and thoughts have sent my heart a-flutter and have motivated me. I am now guilty of not minding my life outside this because of my dedication to the story. Heehee.

Please let me know your thoughts. Oh and Katniss and Peeta will meet soon; fret not.

This chapter is also the start of the multi-character POV. While Katniss and Peeta will still narrate it predominantly, I feel that the story would be more complete if parts of it moved through the narration of other characters.

Once again, The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **

**And we now have Chapter 3! A word of caution because an adult scene is up ahead (non-explicit though). And since this is an AU, please keep in mind that the geography of Panem here is different. It's not in North America. It will be further explained in the coming chapters.**

**Enjoy!**

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 3**

**Alternate Title: Whispers of War in the Middle of Meeting Two Princes**

The sky was tinged the lightest blue when the fisherman and his crew returned, bringing the bounty of the northern sea to the markets of the Eighth Kingdom. And just as well, because the sea had started to become restless, as opposed to the calm, bobbing waves that greeted them when they sailed earlier.

He traded the creatures they caught: brightly-striped long bass, spotted salmons, shiny-scaled whale fish, and many freckle-shelled crustaceans. He was about to argue the price of the whale fish with the market middleman when he noted the sudden absence of the market's noise. He turned and saw most of the stall vendors staring at something in the sea.

What he saw at first was a giant vessel, unfamiliar in its structure, and surely not used for fishing. It dwarfed the other fishing boats that were on their way to shore. As the giant vessel drew closer, the fisherman squinted his eyes to look at the seal painted on its port side. The seal, a majestic mix of flint gray and burning red, glowed in the faint sunrise.

Everyone in the market and the seashore was still; everyone was waiting for the ship to make a move. The fisherman felt a dull ache on the side of his stomach where he was stabbed years ago, the way it did when a storm was about to begin. But the sudden storm that came was that of fire from the giant ship. It made the roof of the markets ablaze in the rising sun. It also did not spare the fishing boats at its side. A few unfortunate fishermen who were on fire were running towards the sea, towards the ship that now unloaded its cargo of uniformed men.

Before running towards the safety of the hill, the fisherman took a last look at their aggressor and realized that the seal he saw belonged to none of their nation's twelve kingdoms.

* * *

"A gold bar and nothing more," seethed Lord Hawthorne.

"Three gold bars is my price, Lord Hawthorne, or you will find yourself lacking what you have come to seek."

It was the first time that Katniss saw the ever-composed Lord Gale Hawthorne run a hand through his hair as he fumed over the bald priest's proposal. She had a fair idea over what they were arguing about but lost interest when they started bargaining and she started looking at the buildings adjacent to the one they were in, a certain "Hall of Reverence" that Gale mentioned.

She rounded the corner of the hallway, thinking that the nobleman would not mind, and saw that it led to a courtyard drunk in the brightness of the sun. Katniss itched to explore the new place, curiosity edging out her earlier anxiety, and wanted to go anywhere she would not hear the priest's oily tone as he tried to milk Lord Hawthorne for more money.

She crossed the courtyard when she saw no one present and into another one where a handsome but spare building casted an imposing shadow on it. Katniss heard the faint clang of metal ringing as well as the jovial laughs of men. She walked into a corridor and hid behind a stone pillar as she observed the scene in the sunken, sloping field before her.

This must be the Barracks that Lord Hawthorne pointed out earlier, where what he called the Privy Gentlemen and the Guard trained.

The young men in the garden were sparring. Weapons were strewn on the lawn, targets set up, and the scent of sweat wafted through the air. The sensible part of Katnisss wanted to go back to Lord Hawthorne, but the hormonal teenager part of her saw no harm in admiring the half-naked and very fit bodies from afar. Her sensible self won over eventually and she exhaled deeply before begrudgingly walking backwards.

And right into someone's stony chest.

She whipped her head and saw blue eyes intensely staring at her, with a puzzled crease between his brows. She took a step to put some distance between herself and the muscled stomach that pulled her eyes downward. She snuck a peek though before looking back to his face. He was handsome, no doubt. And he had the same confident air as Lord Hawthorne.

_Probably another noble._

He took a swig at the water bag and Katniss's eyes were drawn to the hills of his arms.

She could almost groan out loud. Her lack of exposure to the opposite gender's physique had her body ridiculously betraying her, sneaking looks here and there. She silently cursed her Aunt Effie's choice of sending her to an all-girls' school and wished she took Madge's advice on the dating thing.

Katniss looked for a way out, casting her head to the side, but this stranger's gaze commanded her to stay put.

Then he spoke in a low tone, quite low that Katniss didn't almost hear it because of the wind that blew through his golden hair.

"Are you lost, my lady? The Barracks is hardly a suitable place for young ladies."

Before she can do something impulsively stupid, she smiled sheepishly at the man, stepped to the side, and ran for what she thought was the corridor that led her there.

She felt the man's eyes on her as she ran, except the place the corridor led to was unfamiliar. She looked back to where the man stood and to the other corridors that held the possibility of escape.

He probably saw the distress on her face because he offered to help.

_Great_, she had to speak to him now. Her first attempt came out as an embarrassing squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"Which way is the Hall of Reverence please?"

His smirk turned into a small grin. "If you do not wish to make haste, I would escort you there my lady, if only you would grant me some moments to retrieve my tunic?"

_Yup, definitely a noble._ She nodded her head.

When he came back, he motioned for the opposite corridor with a flourish. He stepped ahead of her as he held her hand and assisted her down the steps. Katniss felt her cheeks burn at the thought of the handsome guy touching her sweaty palms.

Katniss could tell that he was trying to put her at ease with his small talk, punctuated at the right times with just the appropriate amount of humor. Her shoulders were beginning to relax and she can look at the stranger's profile better: chiseled jaw, slim nose, and blonde eyebrows.

When she turned her head back, she saw the door that led to the Hall of Reverence and a certain dark-haired noble pacing impatiently. She might be in trouble.

"Gale!" She shouted out and dashed forward, pausing midway in remembering her manners, and thanked the blonde man for his help.

The stranger shot her an inquisitive look, as if trying to figure out what she was to Gale. It hit her that in not calling Gale by his title, the stranger could assume just how "close" Katniss and Lord Hawthorne were.

_More trouble_, she grumbled.

Lord Hawthorne froze as he looked past her approaching figure. But he resumed his composure, bowed, and greeted,

"Good morrow, my Grand Duke."

* * *

Seneca Crane had always prided himself for his cunning. He was, in his opinion, the most guile minister in Chancellor Snow's Cabinet, working hand in hand with another calculating Minister Plutarch Heavensbee in executing the Chancellor's orders. They were never easy, black-and-white orders but ones needing political finesse to traverse.

So it was with pleasure, if one pardoned the pun, that Seneca Crane welcomed the woman sent by the Ninth Kingdom's Queen to ease his tensions, a gift for completing a delicate favor with discretion.

His servant closed the door and they were alone in the room, him and the exotic woman in a blue-hooded cape that clashed with her red hair and feral green eyes. The woman wasted no time in walking towards him, flinging her cape and revealing her curves that had the desired effect on Minister Crane.

As she rubbed her chest on his torso sensuously, she purred "Queen Cerise sends her deepest thanks," while her hand slowly snaked its way down to cup his throbbing area.

Seneca Crane let out a low hiss as the woman started to kiss his neck. He gripped her shoulders and roughly threw her into the bed. A spiked court shoe on his chest stopped him from moving forward as the woman leaned backwards and smiled impishly. His gaze lowered down her silky leg, until the juncture of her thighs, and he noted with excitement that she was bereft of undergarments beneath her silken dress. It made him harder.

He casted aside the leg that prevented him from leaning forward and opened her more. Slowly, he brushed a trail on her thighs with his finger, towards her center, and she moaned in anticipation. But it was never completed because a rough knock on the door interrupted their hot tryst.

"Minister Crane! Your presence is requested by the Chancellor at his office for an emergency defense meeting with the Council."

Seneca stood up immediately at the interruption and dug his fingers to his palms in frustration. The woman, however, wasted no time in undoing his pants and took him in her mouth. As she moved her warm tongue, he let out a strangled reply to the messenger.

"The Chancellor will appreciate the urgency with which you will respond to his call," was the messenger's curt reply.

Seneca let out a gasp as the woman pursued her relentless torture of him and he heard the messenger's footsteps fade. The sensations she made him feel were intense and varied, but it was the feathery rasp of her teeth that was his undoing. When his breathing slowed, the woman put him back in his pants and he straightened his clothing.

He walked out the door, but not before he promised the woman more for later. He would get this damn meeting done quickly.

* * *

Plutarch Heavensbee noted with interest that Seneca Crane was the last to arrive at the Council meeting. He took in Crane's slightly disheveled collar and the piece of hair that stuck out in an odd angle and assumed that the tardiness was caused by Queen Cerise's gift. He had one waiting for him when this Council meeting adjourned. Plutarch smiled as he saw the man clench his jaw and, with an almost imperceptible delicateness, tap his fingers with impatience on the table as he waited for the meeting to start.

The handsome room reserved for Council meetings was devoid of guards and servants, save for his squire, and he saw some nobles getting anxious over not being able to call for frothy refreshments when their whims claimed them. No, the matter they were about to discuss was too delicate, and these spoiled nobles would have to deal with the lack of sugared drinks for an afternoon.

He waited for the Ninth Kingdom's witless princess to stop batting her eyelashes at the Fifth Kingdom's prince before he began. It was a pity that only slightly more than half of the Council was present; not all had been able to arrive from the mandatory break in time for the hastily-called upon assembly. And those who were present wished they were somewhere else.

He cleared his throat exasperatedly to get the Council's attention and almost rolled his eyes at the princess. He made the mistake of looking at Crane again. Minister Crane knew, with a smirk, what annoyed Plutarch. When he had the full attention of everyone, it was time for the delicate dance of politics to begin.

"My respected members of the Council, it is with urgency that this meeting is called forth. We greet the news of the attack on the Eighth Kingdom with desolation, especially when thousands of citizens of the Eighth perished. Our nation has been caught unaware and it is unfortunate that the Eighth Kingdom's response to the attack has been lukewarm at best, leading to more lives lost. The continuing onslaught has left us with the conclusion that the hostile force had premeditated this. We are therefore here to discuss our next actions, for this has grown beyond the jurisdiction of the Eighth Kingdom."

Plutarch gestured to the map at the center of the table.

"The red circles indicate the territories already occupied by the hostile force."

It had the desired effect on the indolent Council members as they exchanged gasps and looks of shock.

"So numerous in so few days?" exclaimed Princess Antigone from the Third Kingdom.

"Unsurprising since the response had been 'lukewarm'," barked the Fifth Kingdom's surly Prince Gunner.

"How mighty of you to criticize since it's not _your _soldiers dying on the battlefield," retorted Princess Joanna of the Seventh.

"Because if _my_ men were made to fight, the collateral damage would not be this worrisome! We are all aware of the pacifist nature of King Fergus. I'll wager you my lance that he pathetically attempted negotiations first," snapped Prince Gunner.

"What of the Eighth's royal family Minister Heavensbee?" Asked the Tenth Kingdom's Prince Curtius, putting a stop to the bickering of the other two royals.

"We have been reached by their message that they have retreated to the other palace near their western border with the Fourth Kingdom," replied Minister Crane instead.

The monarchs simmered down. Plutarch Heavensbee longed to assume that the silence they were now in was because these nobles were reflecting on the next course of action. But to do so would be giving them too much credit, and the vacant look on the Ninth Kingdom's princess was proof of that. They were all waiting to be told what to do so they could all go back to their own pleasures.

He glanced at the Chancellor to see if he was as annoyed as him over the lack of response, but he only looked slightly bemused.

It was the Chancellor's brute nephew, Prince Taurus from the Second Kingdom, who exercised his right to speak without thinking.

"Well our course of action is clear. We are to call for war lest this hostile force think us to be feeble! Raise the armies from the kingdoms and stop this invader from spilling more blood and encroaching on our territories!"

Prince Gloss from the First Kingdom seconded.

_Ah of course, the resolution of the inexperienced. _

"Thank you for your distinguished sentiments Prince Taurus. They have been duly noted by the Council," and he signaled for his scribe to continue writing what transpired in the meeting.

But his nostrils flared and he wanted to turn this boy over and whip him senseless for projecting his childhood fantasies. No, their fraught nation cannot afford to instigate war, not with the plans the Chancellor had. But the inept suggestions of this Council were proving what the Chancellor said on one of their previous meetings to be true.

_They were alone, just the Chancellor and his trusted confidantes in him and Minister Crane. They were there to discuss a pivotal strategy, one that would change the course of their nation._

"_I have grown weary Minister Heavensbee. Decades in power and we have not achieved half of what I envisioned for this country. Panem deserves a strong leadership, not a government rendered impotent by a Council that bickers amongst itself constantly."_

_The Chancellor then rested his forehead on his joined hands. Seneca Crane listened on from the balcony while Plutarch sat beside their leader. Stacks of rolls and books lay before them, as well as pots of inks for signing the decrees. The morning sun has not yet reached its pinnacle yet Plutarch already felt heavy with anticipation. _

Plutarch's thoughts were interrupted by a brash suggestion from Prince Gunner. He sorely missed the presence of the smarter ones. These inane progenies made him feel like an unlucky governess charged with whipping them into political shape, a responsibility of their parents as the ruling monarchs but one grossly unfulfilled. He saw a vein throb at the Chancellor's temple from a particularly stupid comment from Prince Taurus before Minister Crane interrupted another debate rising among the nobles.

"If it pleases my dear Council, it may be better to pursue first the containment of the hostile force. Drive them back to strategic territories, cut off of their supply through our naval forces, then begin diplomatic action to avoid more unnecessary deaths." Minister Crane moved the red circles on the map and rearranged them according to what he suggested.

The Council agreed, but not before another debacle ensued and gave Plutarch a splitting headache, and drafted the decree to be sent to the other kingdoms for compliance. How he loathed presiding over Council meetings. They adjourned and the members exited, save for him, the Chancellor, and Crane. He watched with baleful eyes as the Ninth Kingdom's princess linked her arm to Prince Taurus, flicked her long hair and laughed gratingly, exhaling the air that perhaps was the only thing that filled her tiny head.

Chancellor Snow affixed his signature on the decree as he spoke to Minister Crane, thanking him for his suggestion.

He searched the Chancellor's face for any indication of vexation over the turn of events, over these unexpected attacks. A purge of the unfit monarchs was about to have been set in motion but the assault had halted their plans momentarily. The coming weeks will tell if the plans had changed, because the attacks had left them scrambling blind and with no contingencies.

* * *

The quiet moments in the early afternoon, right after the midday meal, was most conducive to Prince Peeta's artful pursuits. Today was devoted to sketching and his fingertips were already slightly blackened from the stubby charcoal. He was putting that last twinkle in the eye of his beloved brother, exactly as he remembered him when they played in the gardens, when the reflection of the afternoon rays from something caught his eye.

It came from the beads in the dress of this dark-haired girl who was running on the bridge. It was the same bridge that served as the setting in his drawing, connecting the outer perimeter of buildings in the palace to the inner garden within the royal residences. He heard the flat clacking sound of her footsteps on the stone bridge as the girl slowed down and headed towards the garden. Prince Peeta was partially concealed by the tree where he was sitting, leaning casually against the trunk, and moved a bit to take a better look at this intruder to his tranquil afternoon.

Her face was flushed from running and she slumped down rather ungracefully to one of the stones by the small stream under the bridge. She was moaning and mumbling to herself incoherently and he deemed it quite funny when she started playing with her hair. But it reached a point where the girl was trying to hurt herself deliberately by pulling none too gently at her strands and Peeta decided to interrupt.

* * *

"Are you lost my lady?"

It was the fourth time that day someone asked Katniss that with their funny, clipped accents. She just ran past the other two and figured if she were to ignore this man, he would leave her alone.

So she did. But the man paused in front of her and just repeated his question.

Katniss was about to retort back when her face snapped up and saw his features.

He looked like the other blonde one, but the slopes of his cheeks were softer and his jaw was not as frighteningly rigid. They had the same mesmerizing color of eyes and cornsilk shade of hair.

"No I'm not lost. I just snuck out from Lord Hawthorne again and left him with a group of priests," Katniss mumbled to herself.

The man sat down beside her when she did not continue.

"If it pleases my lady, may I ask what Lord Hawthorne did that merited being snuck out upon?"

Katniss glared at the man.

"I wanted to hide. I wanted to take back what I told him. I want out."

If the man was puzzled over what she said, his slightly upturned smile did not show it. He waited for her to continue and when she didn't, he whispered conspiratorially.

"Well, I know of numerous nooks in the palace you can hide out in. I've used quite a few of them myself back when I was a child. Would like me to show you?" He got up and offered his hand to her.

Before their hands touched, Katniss asked for the man's name, unable to look away from his eyes.

"My name is Peeta. May I have the pleasure of knowing yours my lady?"

She surprised herself with the steady reply of her name, despite the tiredness she felt.

His smile was radiant and she returned it with hers when he gently kissed her hand upon their introduction.

She can get used to the hand-kissing. It made her feel very feminine.

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they walked and Peeta started telling her about the buildings around them, like the royal residences and the Grand Duke's apartments, when Katniss felt something uncomfortably hot on her chest.

Peeta was about to point out where the building that housed the jewels vault was when Katniss stopped and tried to fish the hot object from inside her dress.

"My lady…" The poor man blushed and looked away but all Katniss could care about was how that damn locket was not about to burn another hole through her.

As soon as she fished it out, the heat dissipated. The locket hung innocently on her palm. Then she heard that familiar voice in her head.

_Enclave…Mockingjay…Go…_

* * *

The odd girl stood still once more and he figured that he could look now. She stared intensely at an object with a chain on her palm. Then she looked at him with her startlingly grey eyes, and then beyond his shoulders. She started to walk slowly, opposite the direction they were taking a few minutes ago.

She had a glassy expression and he asked her if she was feeling ill. She ignored him and continued walking.

Then she broke into a run.

He followed her, impressed with how fast this girl can run without being winded. They passed several servants who gave them odd looks before bowing. The girl headed towards the Hall of Reverence.

He was surprised when she entered the Hall through a door on the side. She seemed to know where she was going when she stopped at another door, partly obscured by an old and ugly tapestry that depicted the Dynasty of the Warring Kings.

Before she pulled it open, Prince Peeta took her other hand and called for her to stop. Once again, she did not hear him and proceeded to go down the stairs on the other side of the door. He had no choice but to follow the girl, though he hated to think what would happen if they got lost and locked in the lower recesses of the Hall.

He was about to ask how this girl knew her way around when she turned right abruptly and Prince Peeta noted the familiar walls.

They were on their way to the tablet and he saw it from where he stood.

The girl approached the large stone, removed the case, and lightly guided her fingers over the carved inscriptions. Prince Peeta watched intrigued as the girl took the locket and pressed it on the indention at the top. The stone cracked. Then it tumbled down in a cascade of small debris, leaving behind a long bangle. The girl returned the necklace to her neck, her movements slow and deliberate, and took the bangle as she turned around.

It clicked around her small wrist and forearm. He heard a gasp, but it didn't come from the girl who was now looking at the bangle intensely. He turned and saw a small group of priests and scholars, with the old priestess in front, staring at the girl. He could make out the tall figures of his brother and Lord Hawthorne at the rear of the group.

Then the girl screamed in agony.

* * *

Author's Notes:

And there you go! The plot is getting thicker. This chapter is relatively short compared to the others and serves more as a springboard for the events in the coming chapters.

Thank you so much for reading and for all your lovely reviews and suggestions! They have been most encouraging and keep me going at night when all I want to do is crawl to bed and sleep, but thinking of my readers makes me buckle down and finish writing the chapters. I cannot thank you enough and I look forward to your thoughts!

Oh and for those of you who enjoyed Lord Hawthorne in the last chapter, I'd like to say that I had loads of fun writing him too! I took the passion and sense of responsibility he had as a character and translated it into gallantry, tee hee! You'll see more of him in the coming chapters. And of course, even more of our beloved Prince Peeta.

Once again, The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: We are entering M territory here and not going back. This fic ain't for the faint of heart.**

**Oh and remember the plans that Peeta's father spoke of in the first chapter? Keep it in mind when you read this one.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4**

**Alternate Title: The Mockingjay in All Her Glory**

_Can Chancellor Snow read minds?_

It was a thought Prince Gloss often entertained, what with the way the Chancellor always seemed to know when his attentions to a meeting were at their thinnest and the Chancellor would ask the difficult questions then. It was not the wisest thought at the moment, as he was sitting on the ornately carved but painful wooden chair across the man and one of his deputies, Minister Heavensbee. They were in the same cavernous room used for Council meetings, with the buildings of the Capitol glistening from the rain through the large windows, except it was empty now save for them and their guards.

When Prince Gloss was younger, and had a much more liberal tongue, he said all sorts of things that caused his family to reel in shock at such an opinionated young boy. It led to long hours of tedious line writing from his ugly and stern governess and the occasional spanking from his Lord Father, King Harald. His older sister, Princess Cashmere, often provided the push for his tongue to start rolling. She called him boastful sometimes; in his opinion, she was merely envious of his gift of glib. The punishments rained because people often misconstrued what he said, and he was angry that he had to explain further. When he learned to control the anger behind his sentiments, his father listened more, and so did the people around him.

And now, he thought, those lessons will be tested. He needed to control the thoughts fighting for space in his mind and be cautious with his words because Chancellor Snow was the last person he wanted to discover his secrets and that of his father.

In his brief years with the Council, he had heard only a few good things about the Chancellor, because the whispered accounts were villainous at the least. Half the members of the Council cower in fear of this man, with hair the color of his namesake slicked back to the top of his bony head, a leathery face, and perhaps the most cutting stare he had ever received. His father told him to always regard the Chancellor with deference, but he suspected his father to be scared of the Chancellor. It was comical to him that the man who can bring down a bear with his hands was affrighted of this slight, old man.

Regardless, they were now discussing the matter of his sister's betrothal to the Twelfth Kingdom's Grand Duke, Prince Aldran.

His father thought it terribly advantageous. The reason of his father was they needed a lasting alliance with a formidable kingdom. His father and the Twelfth's King Owain were often in correspondence and in agreement that the Chancellor had been too greedy for power and should be made to step down. But he had his own misgivings regarding his sister's betrothal. As the king-to-be, he felt he was entitled to disagree with the engagement because he had heard whispers as to how the Chancellor felt about the Twelfth Kingdom, and he did not want his beloved sister to be mired in the Chancellor's ire. It often led to heated debates with his father. He had been scheming for weeks on how to wiggle Cashmere out of the agreement, but his planning had been fruitless.

He had been thinking too hard because Minister Heavensbee had to repeat what he said and the Chancellor gave him such a cold stare that the hair on his arms stood up in fright.

"Prince Gloss, I repeat, if the First Kingdom is amenable to the terms of the betrothal, then please sign on the contract as King Harald's legal representative," sneered Minister Heavensbee as he handed the metal pen to Prince Gloss.

Before Prince Gloss could shake the excess ink from the tip of his pen, the Chancellor scraped his chair back and motioned for them to follow as he opened a back door on the wall opposite the windows.

He had always wondered where this door led, because he was usually facing it during meetings and it was all his sleepy mind could do from completely shutting down. Inside, it smelled of such a malodorous scent that Prince Gloss choked upon inhaling. There was barely any light as they descended a spiral stone staircase leading to the lower fortifications of the building.

When they neared the bottom, he saw that the room was devoid of anything but this odd statue. It looked like a bull, albeit a metallic one, standing on a bed of black rocks.

The Chancellor reached the bottom room first, followed by his guards, Minister Heavensbee, then Prince Gloss and his Captain of the Guard. Chancellor Snow walked around the ominous statue and spoke in such hushed tones that Prince Gloss had to strain his ear to hear him.

"My dear Prince Gloss, you must be wondering what we are doing in this dreadful chamber. As prince, I am certain you are aware how difficult a task it must be to balance what you think is right for your kingdom and to keep the egos of your nobles stroked and pampered. But all it takes is a simple, decisive action to keep subordinates in line."

Prince Gloss did not like the wicked glint in the Chancellor's eye as he motioned for the guards to take his lone Captain. Cold sweat began to pool at his back as the guards advanced on them from the opposite side of the circular chamber. Prince Gloss doubted that anyone would hear them if he screamed for help, for the door was so far up the chamber and the patter of rain would muffle his screams. He watched in frozen terror as they stripped his Captain naked, punched him until his knees crumbled and he spitted blood, and started a fire among the black rocks.

Then the Chancellor walked with deliberate steps until he was by Prince Gloss's side and hissed at him with venomous tones.

"There is nothing that I do not know about our beloved nation, my young Prince. Every whisper reaches my ears. And if you would kindly relay to your Lord Father that the next time he plans to incite a coup with his allies behind my back, he would do well to uproot the weeds that have embedded themselves in your kingdom, weeds that will choke you without hesitation upon the slightest hint of a golden reward."

Then the Chancellor's voice dropped, along with his loins in fright, as he signaled to his guards.

"I do not tolerate _treason_, young Prince. Whatever it is that your father had planned, cease it!"

The bull began to glow an angry red and steam came out of its black nostrils. His Captain was writhing, struggling, and pleading for his help, urinating in fear as the guards dragged him towards the bull.

"But you are a wise Prince, that I am certain. You love your kingdom, your subjects, and your family. And you will do what is _necessary_ to ensure their survival. "

A lever opened the bull's body and the guards pushed his Captain inside the cavity. The body closed with a sickening turn of metal, muting his Captain's anguished cries.

"You will do well to heed my words Prince Gloss, lest it be your sister that will be fed to my little pet."

His Captain was in agony, screeching like his newborn son, as the bull burned further. The scraping of nails and the thrashing of limbs sickened him but he did not look away from the menacing, glowing bull that held his friend inside. In his head, the screams mingled with Cashmere's laugh, the way she snapped her head back as her trills filled the air. He closed his eyes to drive away the haunting image. He was sure to see it tonight when he drowned in his nightmares.

"You will also not leave your dear father bereft of an heir to his throne, grieving, and his lands assimilated to that of his next kin in the Second Kingdom. But worry not Prince Gloss. If that happens because of your inaction, we shall take good care of your constituents."

The Chancellor left him as he stared at the beast, the threats boiling in his mind. The violent screams were growing louder and the steam from the bull filled the chamber with the putrid smell of burning flesh, rooting him in place, and coating the walls. The other guards looked impassive and not the least bit repentant. This had not been their first order to use the raging bull. Minister Heavensbee looked at him coldly as the flames danced in their eyes.

Amidst the dying pleas of his Captain, his plans formed resolutely. Prince Gloss knew that he was now chained to the games that the Chancellor and the monarchs like his father played. But he felt awfully alone, for there was no one to beg for help. He could see that if he confided in his Lord Father, that will be the path that leads to his sister's demise in these chambers, for his father will undoubtedly battle the Chancellor. There may be a way to save both his sister and their kingdom, and the burden to appease the Chancellor will be his alone. He could still be the dutiful Prince and the sacrificing brother, but the consequences to his actions will be unthinkable.

* * *

When her heavy lids permitted to be parted, the second feeling Katniss registered after the stinging ache on her arm was a sick feeling in her stomach, like the time she and Prim ate too much mayonnaise with their chips all at once. She was also shivering slightly and someone was walking around the room.

_Room?_

She opened her eyes and a pair of concerned blue ones blinked down on her while a cold, damp towel was being wiped on her forehead. She recoiled at the towel and realized that she was lying in a bed. She sat up too quickly and almost collided with Peeta's forehead, immediately regretting her actions for the sensations it made her stomach feel. But she managed to blurt out a question without vomiting.

"Where am I?"

"You are in my room, in my apartments my lady," Peeta whispered in a soothing tone.

She blushed when she realized that since she was in his room, she must therefore have been lying on his bed. It smelled of a masculine musk that was slowly intoxicating her still addled senses.

"You should continue to rest my lady." Peeta was trying to gently force her shoulders back to the large pillows, and added,

"The Sect has been most invigorated at your arrival and would like to speak with you once you have awoken."

"What happened?"

"You lost consciousness, after you secured the bangle on your arm. We were alarmed over your reaction that we took you here to my apartments since it was the nearest. Our healer has already seen to you and has advised that you should awaken after a few hours."

"I _fainted_? Like a wilting maid?" Not exactly a great start to this Mockingjay business, she thought. She looked around the room she was in. It was ornately decorated like the other parts of the palace she had briefly seen but nothing that suggested improper extravagance.

He moistened the towel again and was about to wipe her forehead when she took it and laid the towel over her face. The woody smell calmed her. Peeta stayed by the side of the bed.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of," he murmured as he took her arm and examined the tender flesh more closely.

"If I may be so bold, my lady, I would counsel that you postpone your meeting with the Sect. They can be most unsparing when they ask questions. I can send the orders that you shan't be disturbed until your health has returned. A word from you is all I await."

She thanked him, but it puzzled her why he can send out orders and why he had such a grand room, and an apartment even, in the palace.

Then a knock disturbed them and a girl brought in a trolley of food. Peeta thanked the girl and she curtsied while whispering "You are welcome, my Prince."

She whipped her head back at him and in an annoyed tone accused him with narrowed eyes.

"You're a prince?!"

Prince Peeta had the decency to blush as she looked at him. He sheepishly scratched his head and said,

"Forgive me if I had given the wrong impression my lady. It was not my intention to deceive you. I was merely hoping that the weight of my title would not hinder any friendship we may have. But if you are unsure of any friendship because of my actions, I shall understand."

To which she suddenly exclaimed a forceful "No!" and added,

"I mean, I'm just surprised. But I shouldn't be since you look so much like the Grand Duke."

"Oh you have met my brother then?"

She remembered the circumstance of their meeting and smiled stupidly.

"Yes, briefly. I lost my way and he escorted me back to the Hall of Reverence."

The Prince went to the trolley and asked her what she would like to eat. He told her to stay in bed to rest and that he would bring her the food.

_Why this is one for the ages!_ she thought. A prince serving her food! If only Prim could see this.

She chose several delectable-looking pastries and munched on them as soon as Prince Peeta handed them to her. She was starving now that the queasy feeling left her but she decided she wanted to know more about this new world she entered.

"Your… highness? Majesty?" she raised her eyebrows in uncertainty. The prince laughed softly.

"You need not trouble yourself with my title my lady. You may call me by my name, as I introduced myself to you as that."

"Ok then… Peeta." It did not feel right on her. She decided she would call him by name when they were alone. When with others, she will include the title. She was not about to repeat the mistake she did when she called Lord Hawthorne by first name in front of the Grand Duke.

Peeta smiled encouragingly at her.

"I was wondering, why is your title 'Prince' and your brother's is 'Grand Duke'?"

"We're both princes my lady. My brother inherited the title of Grand Duke after my eldest brother passed. It's simply a title we bestow the eldest prince of our kingdom with. It's similar with the other northern kingdoms that practice the tradition. It can also be a Grand Duchess if the eldest is a princess."

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother."

Peeta looked down and smiled "Thank you for your concern my lady. Do you have any more queries I can help you with?"

Katniss thought a bit while chewing on her second flaky pastry that was filled with a flowery jam.

"What's a Privy Gentleman? Lord Hawthorne said he is one."

"Ah, the Privy Gentlemen are nobles who attend to the monarchs."

"So they're servants?"

The Prince chuckled.

"No, my lady, hardly. They are men of esteemed rank chosen by the Lord Chamberlain and formally appointed by the King. They assist the royal family in various functions and entertainments. You may think of them as a close circle of friends we can trust and depend upon."

Katniss digested all the information given to her, as well as the scrumptious pastries, but oddly felt tired despite waking up only a few moments ago. When she yawned, Peeta insisted that she take her rest and that he would take care of the Sect for her, and then left her to slumber in his bed. A lot of questions were still on her mind but she figured there would be another time for them and she could always badger Prince Peeta or Lord Hawthorne for answers. She fell asleep only after she munched on her fourth pastry, which was this time filled with a citrus jam that made her teeth ache.

* * *

The next time Katniss awoke, it was morning and the sun shone softly through the crack in the voluminous curtains. She wondered where the Prince slept and blushed at the absurdity of her situation. She also wondered how she would get hold of her dresses and where she can clean herself when a knock interrupted her thoughts.

A chambermaid entered, curtsied, and bid her good morrow and said she was pleased the lady had arisen and was well. She was there to assist with her morning activities and if it pleases the lady, the water chamber was this way and they would proceed to the vestments room after so she could break her fast with Prince Peeta soon.

Her stomach lurched at the mention of the Prince. She needed to thank him for his hospitality and apologize that he was unable to use his room. Oddly, the thought of speaking to Prince Peeta after their encounter yesterday made her anxious. The cleaning and dressing part was over too soon and she still had not thought of how she would go about thanking the Prince. They sure had weird manners of speeches and she tried her best to emulate them so she would not sound insincere.

But there she was already, fidgeting with the sleeve of her satin dress with velvet embroidery, by the door to another cavernous room where they would be breaking their fast, waiting for her entry to be announced, cleaned and powdered and perfumed and coiffed (all just for breakfast!) and still blank on what to say to express her thanks.

The door opened to a bright room surrounded by glass and Katniss saw the sprawling gardens, trimmed bushes, and tamed, brightly colored forest beyond the transparent walls. There was a table that held the morning's food: mounds of fruits that were strange and familiar, succulent meats, and more enticing pastries.

"Good morrow, Lady Katniss," she turned to see Prince Peeta smiling softly at her. He held his hand out and she gently placed hers in his, trying hard to suppress the tickling giggle bubbling out of her despite her unease as he gently kissed her hand in greeting.

"Shall we proceed to break our fast?" He asked as he tucked her hand at the crook of his arm.

"Yes please," Katniss murmured, suddenly shy. They were alone in the room and Katniss was thankful for the absence of extra eyes. She still was not used to the presence of servants.

Prince Peeta led her to the table that held the inviting fare and Katniss took her time choosing the most interesting foods. She was never a picky eater and the new options to her palate excited her enough to overcome her nervousness.

They went through the door that opened to the balcony, seated themselves on the small table that held the fine plates and goblets, and ate with the gentle wind and the soft chirps of the morning birds.

"I had hoped that my room would have been enough to ease your discomfort after yesterday's commotion. It would please me to hear if my lady slept well undisturbed?" The Prince asked as he adjusted his seat after taking care of hers.

"Yes, thank you, your bed was really comfortable and I slept soundly last night. You did not have to, really, but I am still very grateful."

Prince Peeta was listening to her with rapt and she felt her cheeks heat up at the attention. Then he smiled and proceeded to eat.

"I spoke to the Sect yesterday and they have agreed to move their conference with you to tomorrow."

"Thank you," she tried to say without her food spilling from her. She hated that she was unusually jittery and tried hard to remember all of the lessons in etiquette Aunt Effie drilled into her. She was painfully conscious of what the Prince would think of her, nervous over the breakfast, that she almost spilled her goblet because of her hand's lack of coordination.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. But Prince Peeta only chortled.

"Lady Katniss, please do not tax yourself. You need not be nervous. But if it would make you more comfortable to break your fast unaccompanied, I shall keep that in mind for tomorrow. I only surmised that you must be in want of company in this strange land and I wanted you to not feel lacking in the hospitality we can share."

Katniss blinked at the Prince who rendered her speechless and jumpy. She bowed her head when she replied.

"It's not that, Prince Peeta. I am still trying to adjust to this world. Everything has been overwhelming and new and I cannot say I have dined with royalty before. But really, thank you, I feel most welcome, almost an intruder to your lives." She finished with a shaky laugh.

"Think nothing of it my lady. I will strive to do everything to make you comfortable. Starting with the titles. You need not call me 'Prince', since you are technically not my constituent."

Katniss smiled at that and took a small fruit with her hand. "Then please just call me Katniss, not Lady Katniss. It makes me sound like I'm sixty."

"If it pleases you, Katniss, then I shall acquiesce," Peeta replied smoothly.

Katniss looked back to her plate, not being able to look at the Prince's eyes for too long.

"How is your arm, Katniss?"

She looked down at the gold bangle on her left arm and sighed. The skin was still red where it clamped down on her, though not in the same angry shade as yesterday. The damn thing was worse than the locket!

"It's hurting less, thank you."

"I'll send the healer for it after the meal. I must apologize my lady. I had hoped to accompany you for the day but my Lord Father had expressed his command of meeting my brother and I for the remainder of the morning and the afternoon. They postponed my brother's trip to the Capitol once more and he already commented wryly that perhaps he was never destined to go. Will you be able to manage, Katniss?"

She nodded her head, mouth full of tender meat and its plush gravy. Maybe Lord Hawthorne can give her a tour since the Prince would be busy. She already wondered where he was.

They continued their breakfast, with Katniss less tense, and she enjoyed the new food more now that she no longer strained herself over the meal. Peeta, much like his brother in their brief encounter, was able to put her at ease with his aptly timed humor and easy smiles. She found herself rolling her eyes at his jokes twice.

After their meal, he walked her back to his apartments but Katniss insisted on being taken to the gardens. She could use some air, she said. The quiet gardens calmed her as she looked at the delicate flowers and rows of trimmed bushes.

She could also use more time to think about how she would deal with the meeting tomorrow that kept her on tenterhooks.

Katniss ended up spending the afternoon in the gardens and walked in the familiar buildings and halls of the palace, orienting herself with the crisscrossing corridors, before a chambermaid informed her that the Prince requests for her presence at dinner. Her stomach lurched again and she could not help that prickle of excitement in her.

But she hoped, really hoped, that dinner would be better than their painfully stilted breakfast.

* * *

Prince Peeta walked to the other apartment he was temporarily an occupant of since he insisted on Katniss using his, the moon shining high through the enormous windows. The halls were silent save for his footsteps and the stationed guards bowed to him in respect. He had just bid Katniss good night and she smiled shyly from his door. Their dinner was a bit more uninhibited than their breakfast and he was able to make her laugh more with his impressions of the other nobles, particularly over the drunken Lord Abernathy.

The girl had an exuberant spirit, he could tell, but it was tethered to her nervousness and doubt. He was shown glimpses of her irrepressible side, when she was not thinking too hard of her actions, and it made him want to coax her out of her shell more.

But just her very presence was enough to make him anxious as well. It was a foolish childhood dream of his to meet the Mockingjay ever since his governess enthralled him with the legend and sparked a hope that only the innocence of children can sustain. His brothers scoffed at his silly dream, that nothing would ever come out of it, and that he best eliminate his fantasy if he was ever going to be a prince of use to their kingdom.

But he held on to his hope; a small, flickering light inside him right where he kept his thoughts and desires.

When the blood moon appeared, he was too devastated by his brother's passing to take any note of it. But when the other two signs announced their presence, the light blazed more steadily, casting aside the shadows of disbelief and welcoming a joy that can only come from being right, of being rewarded for his faith.

And now the Mockingjay was in his room, a precious girl unsure of what to do, who stumbled into their dangerous world. If only he could tell his five year old self to hold on to their dream as the taunts from their brothers continued, that it would be worth it to persevere, and that now she was here, he would care for the dream they fought for.

* * *

He took a swig from his trusty bottle of clear liquor before replacing the cap and returning the bottle inside his court coat. It was only a year ago that he started drinking and for the life of him, he did not know why he did not start earlier. The spectacle below, the parties seated on the carved wooden table, the bald priest alternately asking questions and explaining the legend to the girl and the petulant girl remaining stoically silent, was starting to give him a headache right in the middle of his brows. That and the Hall of Reverence was never an agreeable place for him. He was always averse to dealing with the Sect.

King Owain, who watched by his side, glanced at him in amusement.

"Aggravated already my Lord Abernathy? Why, I have not even given the girl to you to watch over!"

"And why should I leap with joy if you did? Our alleged _savior_ is drier than the Ninth Kingdom's cruelest summer. It is a pity that her burning furnace of indifference towards the Sect is not contagious. Your other son could use a dash of it. As well as young Lord Hawthorne," he said, gesturing to the silent young lord staring daggers at the droning priest. He turned to the King.

"Your Majesty, has Priestess Sae discussed the matter of the Mockingjay with you?"

"Who has not _tried _to discuss the matter of the Mockingjay with anyone in this kingdom?"

"Very well. Has she asked you about the expedition she wants to send this girl to? By the way things are going, you will need to spare a large contingent to go with the girl."

When Lord Abernathy shifted his attention back to the scene below, the priest was still not done with the history of the legend and he had already lost the interest of the girl. She was fidgety and he attributed it to nerves. She reminded him of Prince Matthis when he first wilted under the scrutiny of the Chancellor.

"What is your opinion my Lord Abernathy?"

"My opinion is that while we do have the resources to spare to send this girl gallivanting under the orders of the Sect, her coming is ill-timed. The threats are closing in, your Majesty, from both the Chancellor and this new enemy. If only we can postpone Prince Aldran's voyage to the Capitol for a few more months because the times are too uncertain—"

"But we cannot without inviting the Chancellor's further suspicion and dismay. What are the other courses of action we may pursue?"

"Send Prince Peeta with the girl, if the priestess insists on the expedition. It may be a gamble but if we were attacked, he will be safer since he's mobile. We need someone to reign in the Sect during the expedition as well. And he's also conveniently quite taken with the girl. How endearing." He ended sarcastically, opening the cap of his bottle to take a swig.

The King chuckled as Lord Abernathy toyed with the cap of his bottle.

"Peeta had always been captivated with the legend since childhood. I'll wager the weight of his title is the only thing preventing him from saying to all of us 'I told you so,'" replied the King.

"Yes he can barely keep his excitement, so much that he insisted the girl be lodged in his room. You will have to give her her own apartments, unless you would like a rebellion on your hands from all the indignant ladies at court." He took another swig before continuing,

"Unfortunately, your walls are porous, your Majesty, when it comes to whispers and gossips. The chambermaids, I'm afraid to inform the priests, are more omniscient than the Protector in these matters."

The King let out another amused laugh.

"Did the other Kingdoms think any of the signs like we did?"

"As far as my contacts have told me, they have not. The moon returned to its former color while flaring rocks plummeted from the sky as the early-rising servants cheered on. The aurora was confined to our kingdom. We are the only ones among the twelve superstitious enough to believe in this nonsense." His voice escalated a tiny bit at the last part of his sentence and it echoed down to the meeting. The King gave him a weary yet amused look.

"If it's nonsense, then why are you suggesting my son go with the girl?"

"With the way the circumstances are going, it would still be imprudent to disregard anything that may help our cause, I will admit to that much. And it is less taxing that way. Have you ever argued with Priestess Sae?"

The King chuckled. "Only twice in my entire reign and it's more than enough."

"And how do you suggest we explain her appearance? I am certain all the curious ladies at court would want to know why she is suddenly dangling off the arm of Prince Peeta."

"I do not want her revealed as the Mockingjay," the King replied gravely and continued,

"Aldran broached the idea to me and I agree with him. No one outside our family, the Sect, Lord Hawthorne, and yourself can know her identity. If the other kingdoms who are not our allies, particularly the Chancellor and his cohorts, find out what she can potentially mean to us, they will destroy her before they destroy my sons."

"Did the Grand Duke come up with that in a fit of brotherly contrition?"

The King chuckled again.

"Perhaps. He had always been the cruelest in teasing Peeta before."

"How do you propose we cover her lineage then?"

"Oh I am certain the scribes can devise a heritage," the King waved his hand dismissively before continuing,

"Have them make her into Lord Hawthorne's distant cousin from a valiant family who until recently was locked up in a tower by her mad father or something."

"As you wish, your Majesty. Well regardless of her purported lineage, I daresay the girl's mettle will also be tested soon if the Sect has its way. And so would the Grand Duke's if we ever push through with our voyage to the Capitol."

Then the King turned to him, laughter gone. His expression was as grave as the one he wore the night the news of Matthis's death came.

"Please take care of Aldran in the Capitol, my friend. We are nearing the final phase of our plans and when the alliance with the First Kingdom is secured, we can move more swiftly against the Chancellor. Until then I fear for both of my sons's safety. The perilous net of the Chancellor has surely been cast and Aldran needs you to navigate the waters with him. Have you heard of any more news about the hostile invaders of the Eighth?"

"Yes your Majesty. And there has been another attack, this time on the Eleventh Kingdom. They attack from the sea and seem to have knowledge of where a kingdom is weakest. Even if the Chancellor sends forces to contain the damage, we are blind as to where they will aim their fury next. If they continue conquering the kingdoms in the northern shores, they will seize the Capitol in a matter of weeks and control the nation from there. Whatever you have planned, your Majesty, you must move soon."

The King was pensive as he looked below again. Priestess Sae was now speaking and the girl seemed to liven at the change of lecturers.

"Are our Shadows primed then?"

"Yes they are your Majesty. This is what they have been trained for. But if you intend on using them, you are too benevolent on a nation that will not thank you if you ever rid it of its present scourge."

"That is not the plan I have in mind but I will take your blunt sentiment into consideration. Send a small contingent to find out from whence they sail from and what their motives are. I want to know our new enemy as well as I know the Chancellor. Perhaps they can be counted on to dispose of Chancellor Snow for us, or will that be hoping too much?"

"It is amusing how you and the Chancellor are of the same opinion. He had Minister Crane secretly dispatch an initial team to collect information about the hostile force as well."

"Then we should know more than them," King Owain said with finality.

The King turned and left Lord Abernathy to his thoughts. But he heard him pause by the door. He took a quick chug of alcohol for whatever was coming next.

"I do not hold you responsible, my friend, for what happened to Matthis. You did not fail him. And it is my hope that you will stop blaming yourself too because once in the Capitol, Aldran will need an adviser who is not drowning his guilt in liquor."

* * *

Katniss made the mistake of looking up at the balcony that surrounded the room and she received the look of scorn from this scruffy man who had clearly drunk too much. The bottle swayed precariously in his hands and she hoped that he would drop it on the annoying priest's balding head.

She turned her attention back to the kindly, old priestess who was about to explain the Mockingjay legend in detail.

The light from the window shined on the bangle on her left arm, which was still bruised and tender. But she took a small comfort over the subsequent events after the bangle clamped on her arm.

It had been two days since she met the youngest prince and blundered embarrassingly throughout their interaction. But she could not be blamed. Interacting with princes and nobles was absent from her resume of interacting with giggling, gossiping classmates.

She had not seen Prince Peeta since last night though, because it was Lord Hawthorne who accompanied her over breakfast and escorted her to one of the rooms of the Hall of Reverence in the afternoon.

_Speaking of Lord Hawthorne…_

She found Gale brooding to her left. He looked even more bored than her. When she caught his eye, she playfully stuck her tongue out at him. Gale let out a snort of laughter and looked away as the priest scolded Katniss for her inattention.

She frowned.

Perhaps it was time to pay attention.

_Better to get this over with soon._

So far, all she knew of this Mockingjay business was that everyone did not take it seriously until she arrived and sent them all in a panic.

She laughed at the mental picture of the priest in a flurry. She turned her attention back to the priestess, who was talking about the prophesy in the legend, its three signs, its purpose of saving the kingdom (which was her purpose now, as ambiguous as it sounded), and how it came to be known during the end of their last great war. Gale looked less irate, now that the trivialities the priest spoke of earlier had ended. Or perhaps it was just his dislike over the priest's failed extortion.

"The tablet also tells us, from what we are able to translate from its cryptic scriptures my lady, that the Mockingjay is armed and the key to the armament lies on your bangle."

Her ears pricked up at the mention of a weapon. She hoped it would be a bow! Things were definitely getting better and she was less apprehensive.

The priestess walked over to her, took her arm gingerly with her crinkled hands, and shook her head at the faint redness.

"My sincerest apologies over your pain my lady. I can procure a salve that will soothe this. Meanwhile, may you turn your attention please to these four hollow indentations?

"The tablet tells of four pearls that must be found and placed in the bangle before the weapon appears. It is unfortunate though that we have the directions for only three. It is now your immediate duty, my lady, to retrieve these pearls. Have you any queries?"

Katniss thought of the fairy she first saw when she came here. She had been itching to ask anyone about it but it had not felt right. The priestess looked so kindly though and she did not think she would offend the priestess with her curiosity. But even in her head her questions seemed foolish. She might as well ask though, what with her impending missions and all, she would rather know exactly what she was getting into.

"Uhhh, is there _magic_ and _magical_… _beings_ here? Will I need them or meet them in any capacity during the mission?"

The priest glared at her. Gale looked at her as though she grew another nose. But the priestess's face did not hold any judgment and even replied in sympathy.

"At present, the most magic we are capable of are the mages's divinations of the runes. But it is a fickle practice at best. It has been said that beings with extraordinary talents unlike us once roamed our lands. Belief and worship of them have been prevalent before the Dynasty of the Warring Kings but the practice has died and they have receded from our consciousness. My old mentor, may the ancestors guide him to the Protector, had always advised me that it is unwise to cast aside their existence; after all, the Mockingjay was only a legend but is now real before our sights."

The priest looked at the old priestess, abhorred at the sacrilege the priestess was suggesting.

_Great_, as if she was not about to face enough horrors, let them add enchanted beings to the list!

Just then, the priestess called for a break, before she explained more about retrieving the pearls. Katniss jumped from her seat and exploited the opportunity.

_Let's go!_ She mouthed to Gale in silence as she passed him on the way to the door. He followed her and when they were out in the hall, they began to laugh and ran, grateful to be away from the stuffy room.

They stopped at a small courtyard while they regained their breath.

"Please tell me there is nothing more after the retrieving mission thing. I cannot bear another word about birds or legends and pearls."

Gale just laughed.

"What's funny?"

"My source of mirth is that you are probably not even halfway through, if the priest would get his way of questioning you, and you have no excuse to leave, unlike me because I need to pack for my over-postponed journey. That means I will be leaving you to stew in boredom over what is essentially a hyper-extended bedtime story in the company of the old bats."

"Fine! You're no help at all." She said as she smacked his arm, then added,

"Where's Prince Peeta?"

Gale gave her an even more amused look.

"Do I sense a mounting interest on the youngest Prince?"

She did not dignify that with a reply and waited for his answer.

"He's training in the Barracks. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No I'll find my way," she said, swiftly turning on her heels.

Katniss walked with haste to the Barracks and as far from the Hall of Reverence as she can. That hall so far held nothing but unpleasant experiences for her.

She was still not convinced over this Mockingjay business. It frightened her senseless, encountering only horrid pain from the locket and bangle so far, but now was not the time to dwell on it, she thought. It would be no use to hyperventilate again and the people might lose whatever faith they had in her if she kept fainting here and there.

She found the Prince soon enough, practicing alone in the massive training courtyard. She hid from view behind the pillars and looked on as he gracefully danced with his sword against an imagined opponent.

There was a beguiling beauty, an economy of movement, in the way Prince Peeta's sinewy arms handled the formidable sword. She let out an admiring sigh as he moved it downward in a fluid arc. The sensible part of her let that one slide.

She might as well have a little fun in this strange land while she tried to make up her mind if she wanted to go back to the stuffy Hall of Reverence.

* * *

He felt her presence and pretended to not see her and continued with his training. Prince Peeta decided that it was time for some entertainment to put the tense lady at ease. He promised himself he would coax her out of her shyness and some teasing should help with that.

He discreetly picked up a knife when he laid the sword on the bench. He knew she was staring at him and was hiding behind a pillar. He quickly turned, threw the knife to the pillar, and watched with glee at her widened eyes and shoulders stiff in fright.

"You have a habit of sneaking my lady," he called out.

She stomped from her hiding place and down the steps. He met her halfway and enjoyed as he watched her squirm when she noticed he was shirtless and sweating and tried to avoid his eyes.

"Why so fidgety, Katniss?"

"Don't you own a shirt?"

"Of course! I have rooms brimming with vestments and attires. But they get soiled when I train so I do not bother with them."

She did not reply and instead walked to the corner holding the weapons. He followed her and decided to tease her a bit more.

"May I ask who had the pleasure of being snuck out upon by our legendary Mockingjay? Priestess Sae? Mage Rork? Tell me not that it was poor Lord Hawthorne again?"

She ignored him and picked up a bow and an arrow from the quiver. She walked a few steps towards a mark and aimed at a target from an impressive distance. Peeta was just about to tease her about playing with weapons when she released the arrow and it embedded itself at the center of the target.

They mirrored each other's look of surprise. Then the girl let out a squeal of joy and did an odd little dance before realizing that he was still staring at her.

"Sorry. Ever since my shoulder injury I haven't been able to shoot right."

"How impressive. Where did you learn how to shoot Katniss?"

The girl took on a wistful look and he noticed a wash of sadness over her eyes.

"I learned from my father. He taught me how to hunt and it was our thing every weekend. I always looked forward to it. Hunting with him was the only thing that could tide me over my lack of interest in school. It was also his bargaining chip to make sure I produced good grades cause A's and B+'s meant an extended hunting trip."

"Your father and mother, they must be worried about you."

She looked at him with more hurt in her eyes.

"They're not. They passed away already. I live with my mom's sister and my younger sister."

Peeta felt like kicking himself. "Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to intrude and make you uncomfortable."

She replied with a smile, that it had been a long time, but the easy atmosphere around them had already dissipated and he wanted it back. If she was sneaking out again, he knew the perfect place where no one would find them.

"I would like to show you something, Katniss. It's a bit of a walk, but I can assure you that it's more interesting than the Hall of Reverence and the congregation of priests."

She let out a small smile, this time reaching her eyes. "Well, since I've already left anyway, I don't see the point of wasting my efforts. And Priestess Sae probably needs more time to rest. Where is this place?"

He beamed at her and motioned for a guard to take a message to the priestess that the meeting would continue tomorrow, just so the poor old priestess would not waste time waiting for her. He turned back to Katniss and answered her question.

"It is a fair distance from here. Are you wearing comfortable shoes?"

She hiked her skirt a bit, stuck out a boot, and said,

"I should thank Lady Hawthorne for her foresight."

Peeta held out his hand for her and she took it. Like before, he tucked it in his elbow.

"Aren't you _going_ to put a shirt on?"

He was waiting for that. He glanced down at her and grinned.

"It is my palace. I can act however I please."

But before they went out the training grounds, he picked up his tunic and put it on. He bowed at her with a flourish of his hands and she rolled her eyes at him.

They passed by the Nobles Abode and into the reddened forest bordering the palace. Peeta kept checking her for signs of exhaustion but she was as fit as a horse, maneuvering around the bushes and trees effortlessly. They went further in and can hear the rush of the small river. The terrain became rocky as they approached their destination and Peeta helped her over the boulders they passed as they travailed the downward slope of the forest.

When they reached the bottom, they balanced on top of boulders, but one was quite tricky and he had to hold both her hands to help steady her. He noticed the blush that formed on her cheeks. She still looked down at the big rocks and was careful where she stepped. He led her to the middle of a stream littered with more boulders and they faced the waterfalls they came here for, three sisters that fell from a great height side-by-side and flanked by the snaking limbs of ancient trees. Giant rocks that allowed a gentle trickle to stream forth surrounded the pool at the bottom of the falls. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow, along with the spontaneous chirp of birds, and he enjoyed them with the look of awe on her face.

"My father brought me here when I was younger. I go here when I want to think and not be disturbed."

"It's breathtaking. How did you get a waterfall in the palace?"

"Well the palace is situated on top of a small mountain my lady, and this waterfall was already here when the palace was built. This is the part that is hidden from the city so you could not have seen it when you were on your way up."

He sat down on one of the rocks behind but continued to watch her. She was more at ease here in the forest, he could tell. A butterfly perched on top of a finger and she giggled at it. Then Katniss sat down beside him, eyes closed, and listened to the waterfalls and the singing birds.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

He smiled back in reply even if she was not looking and they fell into comfortable silence before she broke it and turned to him.

"If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?"

He nodded and waited for her to continue. She looked away when she spoke again. The nest of birds on a nearby branch received her intense gaze.

"What is the Mockingjay to you? I mean, since you are a prince and you must know this stuff. Do you think I can do it? It's been buzzing in my head all day. Sorry, you're stuck with me now since you brought me here and Lord Hawthorne's probably already sick of listening to me."

"You desire to be somewhere else then, rather than here?"

She looked at him again and swallowed. "I… I honestly don't know. I'm not sure I'm cut out for this and it's not like I could prepare for it…"

Peeta interrupted her before she went into piteous territory.

"Do you want to know a secret, Katniss?"

"Ooh a prince with secrets. I wonder how much gold that will fetch me. Might be enough so I can run away," she said with a hint of sarcasm and he matched it in his reply as he humored her.

"I was switched at birth and I am not cut out for this Prince thing either! And out there is a commoner who is. Imagine living his whole life toiling on some odd work and never knowing the pleasures we enjoy at the palace!"

The look she gave him hinted that she was unsure whether to believe him or not. When he could not hold it in anymore, he let out a laugh and she stood up in annoyance.

"Oh stop it, you're so full of yourself. You're practically cut out from the same mold as your brother."

Peeta stood up and turned her around to face him.

"But I do hope you see what I am trying to convey your closed mind, Katniss. No one is ever fully prepared for what is needed of them to do."

He turned and jumped to the next boulder, leaving Katniss to think about what he said. He walked to a small patch of flowers and picked a white one that has not fully bloomed. He headed towards her again, still frozen in thought at her spot. He looked up and saw that the first star had already appeared in the sky. Peeta decided to tell her something real this time.

"Look up at the sky Katniss. Do you see that lone star? My mother told me before that the first star that appears in the sky is the loneliest and it grants the wish of those who look up and keep it company. Make a wish my lady."

While she was looking up, he gently tucked the flower behind her ear. She looked at the flower and then to him and said,

"But this one has not bloomed yet."

"Yes, and when it does, it will turn out fine like the others. And also just as exquisite. There is no use for worries, Katniss."

She reddened and looked up again at the star. He did not want to look away from her, though he had his own wish to make: to be able to protect this vulnerable girl against the uncertainties of his world. But he looked up to the star, just to be sure.

He was never more certain about anything.

* * *

Lord Hawthorne needed to see one more person before he proceeded to the feast King Owain was throwing in honor of the Grand Duke that evening before they finally left for the Capitol tomorrow.

His talk with Lord Abernathy earlier left no room for doubt.

_He thought it was his servant who knocked on the door so he did not look up from packing the last of his pants and breeches and closing the trunk. But he smelled the alcohol and looked up to find Lord Abernathy._

"_All set Lord Hawthorne?"_

"_Yes my lord. To what do I owe this visit?" _

_Pleasantries were never Lord Abernathy's strong point, and as expected, he was blunt as he got to his point._

"_It's time. King Owain orders for the Shadows to move. After getting settled in the Capitol, you will present yourself to Minister Crane and volunteer to do any task that needs to be done in the face of the new threats. He will be sending several groups of men to find out where they come from and you will be part of that group."_

_He paused before he nodded, surprised at the sudden urgency of the mission. "Will others be there with me?"_

_Lord Abernathy's lips curled into a cold smile, taking his pause as hesitation. "That is none of your concern. If you are having cold feet, may I refresh your memory that you joined the Shadows against the dying wishes of your father?" And he turned and left, slamming the door behind._

He found the door to Prince Peeta's temporary chambers and nodded at the guards stationed by the entrance. He waited for his presence to be announced and was allowed to enter.

He bowed to the Prince and Peeta motioned for the servants and guards to leave them. The Prince looked to be in a hurry so he decided to make this short.

"To what do I owe this visit Lord Hawthorne?"

"I came for a favor."

Prince Peeta gestured to the plush couch in the receiving area. It was the same one they almost ripped to shreds with Aldran and Matthis in eagerness when they found real swords to play with when they were children.

"Will you be accompanying Lady Katniss when the Sect sends her out on an expedition?"

"Yes, my Lord Father and Lord Abernathy had just told me. To be honest, I thought they were going to cancel your trip to the Capitol and send you."

"They are sending me somewhere else my Prince"

"Will the favor you are about to ask have anything to do with your 'cousin' then?"

Gale snorted at the familial reference. He was surprised when Lord Abernathy appeared in his room again to explain the lineage they weaved for Katniss.

"Yes. It is simple, really. Please look after her. I promised her I would before we came here but I cannot disobey the orders of the King."

The Prince's face was unreadable but he replied. "Even if you did not come here, it is still my duty to protect her. Is that all?"

Gale nodded.

"If you will excuse me, I have to fetch her. I will see you at dinner."

Then Gale followed Peeta out the door but he turned in the opposite direction towards the smaller halls they used for intimate gatherings with the other nobles. He greeted his courtesies to the King, found a glass of wine, and headed towards the Grand Duke. He can see another pesky daughter of a noble was bothering him. Aldran was always too polite to turn people away and too eligible a bachelor to be alone. So he decided to cut in and offer a dance to the lady. Aldran shot him a look of thanks as he twirled the determined lady away from him.

When the music came to a close, the girl looked over his shoulder and said in disdain, "Now who is _she_?"

Gale craned his neck and saw Prince Peeta and Katniss entering the double doors, the presence of Katniss sending a ripple of curiosity through the nobility. Of course she would, especially among the ladies and their mothers who spent most of their time scheming about finding a desirable, titled husband. He left the lady into the hands of another noble and approached Katniss and Prince Peeta as they finished their greetings to the King.

Prince Peeta saw him approaching and whispered to Katniss and she turned around. She beamed at him when he neared and the Prince led Katniss towards Gale.

"I will be by my brother, Katniss. You need not worry, Lord Hawthorne is capable of protecting you from the clawed ladies." And he chuckled as he walked away.

Gale led her to the floor for a dance. She immediately tensed.

"What are you doing?" She whispered hostilely as he placed his hand on her waist.

"What do you suppose my lady? Have you never danced?"

"Well not like this, it's archaic in my world!"

"You would do well to follow my lead then. I happen to be an exceptional dancer." And he laughed at her annoyed look.

"You look beautiful tonight, if I may say so. I am amazed there is something underneath that gruff persona you take on."

"I have your mother and Lady Portia to thank. You don't look so bad yourself," she quipped.

Then she looked over his shoulder.

"Wow, are they that _starved_ of men? Look at them go at the two. I almost pity Aldran and Peeta. It's like watching Animal Planet."

Gale had to guffaw at what she said. How strange, this "Animal Planet."

"Please enlighten me on what this 'Animal Planet' is?"

"It's a channel on the television that features animals in the wild."

He gave her a quizzical look. What was this girl talking about? But he was a tiny bit fascinated by her world.

"Never mind, it's amusing to see it in action. Now I know what Peeta meant by the claws."

When the music quieted down, Prince Peeta approached them again and escorted Katniss to the dinner table. The dagger looks the other ladies gave Katniss entertained him as he took his seat across the two. Dinner was uneventful, but he was thankful that he was seated next to a shy and quiet lady. He noticed Katniss blushing whenever Prince Peeta would ask her about the meal or would purposely ignore the other ladies vying for his attention by engaging her in conversation. Katniss stole a look at him once and he raised his eyebrows at her conspiratorially. She blushed some more.

He will miss the palace, he thought. Their trip to the Capitol will be his first outside the kingdom. Even his formidable mother, though she tried not to show it, had also been concerned about her son living far from home. But no one could stop the tide of events sweeping them. He could only hope, as he looked at the pair of the vivacious prince and the painfully shy girl, that they could all come out of it unharmed.

Perhaps he should light a candle as well before they left.

* * *

Author's Notes:

And my favorite drunkard has made his appearance! Oh and remember the playful Peeta that Caesar Flickerman interviewed? He was in my head when I wrote this chapter.

A bit of a history side note here: I took lots of liberties regarding the titles of the monarchy and the nobility just to keep us from scratching our heads over the complicated hierarchy. The torture device used by Snow is called the Brazen Bull and it's not a figment of my imagination (because that would be scary). The ancient Greeks used it as a torture and execution device while the Romans used it to roast the early Christians. The things we inflict on one another.

You may be wondering why I'm showing the political events inside this story's Panem. Well, the social and political themes that ran in the undercurrent of the canon was what drew me to the series, apart from the first book being the only book I could read while on an island, with nothing to do on a lazy afternoon by the hammocks, so my friend lent it to me. (Thank you friend!) In addition to the exquisite cuteness of Katniss and Peeta, I _loved_ the idea of this ordinary girl hurled into the political whirlwind of her country when before, she barely existed by its fringes. Add the fact that the complicated choices of one person can affect, literally, a whole nation. I will stop gushing now.

Thank you SO much to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who put Mockings Hall in their favorite list. I am ecstatic every time I get a notification in my email :D It makes me work extra, extra hard and I really make sure I give this my best. I would love to hear your thoughts! And thank you for keeping an open mind. I know this type of fic is not what everyone's used to (even me) but I am grateful you're still along for the ride :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:**

**Oh thank you that you're still reading! I pray I didn't give anyone any nightmares from the last chapter but I hope the Katniss/Peeta scenes made you forget the horror in the first part.**

**And thank you very much to the amazing HGRomance for recommending my fic! I am forever thrilled, grateful, and humbled.**

**This was a challenge to write but it's only fitting since it's a pivotal chapter. I'll shut up now.**

**On with the craziness and cuteness.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Alternate Title: The Might of the Threats and the Mockingjay's Quest**

He watched as the other ships of his fleet that trailed the one at his direct command cut through the gray waters as they moved towards the shore of their destination. The mountains ahead of the Eleventh Kingdom burned from the fires of their latest conquest. It mattered not that it was once a duchy or a village. The fires leveled them to the grounds until they were no more. The earth will be tilled and prepared. Then seeds will be planted and crops harvested. This will keep their starving kingdom alive.

He could see it now. The growing children of his kingdom will be showered by the bounty of their conquests, unlike their parents and their parents before them who knew only of their land's unyielding, perpetual winters and strictly rationed sustenance. They will all eat the fruits borne from the soil soaked in their enemies's blood and anguish. It will make their future children stronger.

When his ship reached the shore, he alighted without delay. He walked to the field amidst the scurry of his men. The skulls and decaying heads of the conquered were displayed on the fence surrounding the field, stretched as far as he can see, and it warded away any foolish Panem soldiers. It did keep, however, the unfortunate refugees who were unable to flee. They were easy pickings for his archers, not because they were starved and injured, but the empty field where they had to run in order to get to the fence offered no means of concealment. He heard the wails of children in the distance, brought on by hunger and fear. He surmises they must be the abandoned ones. Whether by force of their parents's death or coincidence of their progenitors's cowardice, he did not care.

There was a whimpering group of captured men to his left and he went towards them after brusquely shouting the orders to his soldiers. They must look strange to these people, all wrapped in their furs and skins. These people never knew the frost with their milder weather. The captured faces scrunched in fear almost made him feel regret. But regret will lead them to a failure they cannot afford, for it will mean more hunger for them and death and the pain of betrayal as their animal instincts kick in and they turn on one another. No, there was no room for regret in warfare, not when the spoils of the victor and the bodies of the defeated already crowd it. He ordered the execution of the prisoners.

He described in his report to their Queen Regent the deplorable conditions of their newly conquered land. This was all her doing, her orchestration. She fueled their conquest with her maniacal greed for power, cloaking it in the premise of eradicating their kingdom's hunger.

* * *

Katniss was supposed to go back to the Hall of Reverence again for the remaining details of the Mockingjay legend after the midday meal, but she felt too relaxed and her body did not want to expend more energy to listen. The keen pull she felt towards her own bed, with the fluffed pillows and turned duvet, especially after the feast for the Grand Duke the night before, only made her choice more reasonable. So she took a nap and asked the chambermaid to wake her after an hour and sent her apologies to the Priestess.

She had spent her morning going over her new apartment with the Lord Chamberlain, who escorted her from Prince Peeta's chambers, familiarizing herself with her new chambermaids, and silently wishing they would all go so she can inspect the rooms of her apartment by herself and gush at the splendor bequeathed on her by the King. She wanted to hear the clack of her shoes against the shiny wooden floor as she ran from room to room, up and down. But she could not do that in the presence of the Lord Chamberlain and the attendants she now had. Her annoyance was forgotten when the Lord Chamberlain showed her her suite. She had never had such a magnificent room to herself, with the wall moldings gilded in gold, a bed filled with a million down, a glass chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling's heavenly mural, and all were swathed in a creamy luminescence when she drew the velvet curtains to look at her private gardens.

Now it wasn't that she had not woken up at the reminder of the chambermaid that she was now scurrying in a hurry down the corridors in search for the room where her meeting with the priestess would be. It was because she took her time choosing a dress so she would look more appropriate, not only for the meeting, but also generally for everything. The grandness of the palace still intimidated her, a mere school girl whose simple dreams at this point in her life, before the locket spun it on its head, was to get into the school she wanted with an archery scholarship.

Plus she wanted to look presentable, with combed, perfumed hair and not a wrinkle on her dress, in case a certain blonde prince decided to make an appearance.

She reasoned it was perfectly sensible to take care of oneself more. Her Aunt Effie would be proud if she saw the tiny steps Katniss was taking.

The attention Prince Peeta lavished on her baffled her that it was beginning to invade her unguarded thoughts. Sure she came from another world, but she did not think to hold his regard as much as she did. She thought of things she may have done to earn it but none come to mind. But still, Katniss could not say that she did not at least take a delight in his company and compliments. Katniss was not blind to the glares she purposely ignored last night from the ladies at court, and something swelled in her at the thought of it. And another _something_ was practically bursting from her when they were in the waterfalls and he whispered for her to make a wish, his breath like tips of silken fingers on her ear.

She had to banish those thoughts before the meeting with the Priestess.

But alas, she was lost again, perhaps an unintended blessing so she could clear her head. Katniss thought she made a wrong turn in the previous corridor. She retraced her steps but her frustration mounted because the damned corridors all looked the same and it was beginning to confuse her where she took the wrong turn. She balled her fist into her satin dress but remembered that it would not do her well to wrinkle it.

She stood between two pillars to look at one of the small courtyards dotting the perimeter of the Hall to stop and think when a figure approached and called to her from the courtyard.

"Lost again, my lady?"

Her mouth turned upward as she smiled and nodded. The Prince had impeccable timing.

Katniss watched his precise gait as he neared. Here, where they were alone and bereft of guards and servants, she could appreciate the angles of his shoulders, the erectness of his spine, and how his fingers, though curved in stasis when he walked, still exuded a passive strength.

"If someone would give me a map of the palace, I wouldn't be running around lost like a beheaded chicken," she snapped at his smirking face in annoyance as he climbed the short stairs to reach her. It felt normal now, when he held out his hand for hers and tucked it in the crook of his arm as they began to walk. She did away with the blushing already.

"You took a wrong turn here Katniss," pointing to where she made a mistake. "Should you have continued your walk, you would have ended up near His Majesty's office."

"You came from there?"

"Yes, my Lord Father had pressing matters to discuss."

They passed by a group of priests in fervent discussion. _Where were they earlier?_ she thought darkly.

"How did you know where I was supposed to go?" Katniss suddenly asked and turned her head to look at him, squinting her eyes a little when the sun hit his hair and her eyes and the shoulders of his velvet doublet.

"Because I am to be present at this meeting as well. From now on, it has been ordered by His Majesty that I be responsible for the Mockingjay and the expedition for the pearls's retrieval." He replied as he looked down on her.

She saw the door to the room of their meeting, reaching it without a wasted second more. Prince Peeta opened it for her and followed her inside. Katniss was pleased that only Priestess Sae was in the room, and none of the other priests. But it diminished slightly when she saw the scrolls and dusty books that littered the long, wooden table.

They bowed and greeted their courtesies and the Priestess was the first to speak.

"This shan't take long my Prince, my lady. If you would direct your attentions to these maps," she said as she unfurled two enormous scrolls side by side. One looked new but the other was yellowing and crinkled with age, like the Priestess.

"We have here the current map of Panem and the other is the map we retrieved from the vaults showing the geography during the time of the Dynasty of the Warring Kings."

Indeed the new map featured thirteen territories, the twelve massive kingdoms dwarfing the smaller territory of the Capitol, while the old map featured many small territories. Even the Twelfth Kingdom, a mass of land to the west, was divided into four in the old days.

"From what our scholars have deciphered from the inscriptions in the Tablet, we have come up with the approximate location of the three pearls using the old map and transposed them to where they might currently be in the present map."

The Priestess indicated the locations in the old map with small flags ending in pointed tips and Katniss saw Prince Peeta studying the map with concentration. Then she motioned to the new map with more small flags.

"The closest location is east of the city, within half a day's journey by ship near the isthmus our kingdom shares with the Fourth Kingdom," referring with a small flag to a group of small islands southeast of the Twelfth Kingdom near a narrow strip of land.

"The second location is near the border of the Fourth Kingdom and the Eighth Kingdom." The Priestess pointed to the flag northeast of the Fourth Kingdom and Prince Peeta commented,

"I can see why His Majesty has been most anxious over the expedition, since this location is near the northern shores of the Eighth where they've been plagued by the hostile force."

Katniss looked at Prince Peeta with alarm in her eyes as her stomach leapt with worry over what he said. He hastily added, attempting to reassure her, that the latest intelligence said that the hostile force had now focused on the Eleventh Kingdom, which was far to the east of the Eighth. Then the Priestess concluded with the third location.

"The last one is in the south of the Eighth Kingdom and west of the Capitol. After you have retrieved the pearls, you will need to return to the palace. Perhaps the bangle would give new knowledge then as to where the fourth pearl is located and we have the resources here to aid you when the time comes."

The Priestess reached for two smaller scrolls and handed them over to Prince Peeta, along with some small thick books, saying that the scrolls were the replicas of the maps and the books had more information from the ruined Tablet and should help in translating should they come across inscriptions in the old tongues.

Before she and Peeta left, the Priestess approached Katniss. She had a feeling it might be a warning and she was already tired of their onerous reminders. But instead, the Priestess gave Katniss her blessing, pressing both her thumbs to Katniss's forehead and whispered,

"May my prayers soar over you, my dear Mockingjay."

* * *

It took nearly a week to prepare for the trip. The King had insisted in sending a retinue of guards and servants with them along with some of the Prince's Privy Gentlemen though they won't be told of the truth behind the expedition, relayed Peeta during one of their dinners. The expedition, the Prince said, will be under the guise of retrieving holy artifacts for the Sect and Lady Katniss Everdeen, Lord Hawthorne's cousin, was tasked by the Priestess herself to lead it. Katniss found the idea of concealing her identity as the Mockingjay by posing as Lord Hawthorne's cousin humorous. Still, she could not complain over the additional layer of security the King gave her.

Katniss rarely saw the Prince beyond breakfast and dinner when they would dine together in the apartment the King had given her. Peeta was busy during the day and Katniss had been hoping to spend more time with him since now that Lord Hawthorne had gone, the Prince was her only friend left. She couldn't very well go to the Sect because she did not like them. Nor can she spend time at court, for the ladies there despised and envied her.

The Prince endeavored to make her feel better by having some servants set-up targets in her private gardens so she could practice her shooting the day after their meeting with the Priestess. His face shone with excitement when they were in the garden, with the bustle of servants around, and Peeta motioned for guards to bring them a thin wooden chest crusted with gems. It was old and had several empty sockets where some of the gems once were.

"Unclose it," the Prince urged her.

Katniss knelt in front of the chest and lifted the lid gingerly. Inside was a bow, gleaming in the sunlight. She took it in her hands and drew her fingers over the smooth, curved limbs. It was a worn bow, with markings on the grip, but it did nothing to mar its perfect balance. She itched to nock an arrow and peered into the chest to see if arrows rested on its bottom when she heard Peeta laugh quietly.

"It's uncommon to find a lady so enraptured by a deadly weapon," he said as he handed her a quiver of arrows from another guard.

"This bow belonged to my grandfather, who was an exceptional archer himself. It is on loan from the vaults and my Lord Father. But I commissioned new arrows from the Master of Arms as the original ones had already exhausted their prime."

Katniss stood up, bow and quiver in her arms, and looked at the Prince.

"Thank you," she said and hoped her eyes conveyed the sincerity she cannot fasten words to.

The Prince smiled radiantly. "It is my pleasure, my Lady Katniss," and he took her hand and kissed it.

"I shall see you before dinner then, I have another gift" and he turned and walked out the garden with his guards trailing him.

In the late afternoon, Katniss was still in the garden perfecting her aim. The bow was heavier than what she was accustomed to, hence her aim was affected. She was in the middle of practicing different draw weights when she sensed Peeta's presence behind her, watching her. Katniss could not help feel a little inadequate, especially after the way she saw Peeta train with his sword, at ease and one with his weapon. Her confidence with a bow waned a little after her unfortunate injury but for her last target, she tuned everything out and remembered the way her father taught her, as if she could feel his light guiding hand by her shoulder and elbow. She drew the string as far as her strength allowed and was repaid with the satisfying view of the arrowhead penetrating the center of the target.

"Will you just stand there until the moon rises?" she called to the Prince and proceeded to bring the bow and quiver back to the jeweled chest in the corner.

"Of course not, my lady. But dare I say you looked in deep thought that it would have been a waste to disturb your mental exercise. If it pleases you, I have something else to show you for today."

She turned to him with a smile as he held out a hand to her. They walked out of the gardens, out the door with bowing servants, and into the pathway leading to the Barracks. But the Prince walked them to another path leading to a large circular track between the Barracks and Royal Stables.

A uniformed guard greeted them and Peeta led them to a bench overlooking the track where several targets were set-up as well as obstacles of varying heights. Hoof prints were strewn all over the sandy track

"Am I to shoot them with my bow and arrow? Too bad I can't ride a horse," teased Katniss as she took her seat. Peeta sat next to her and spoke.

"No my lady, we are here to witness a demonstration from some members of our cavalry units. Our mounted archers are the pride of our cavalry, having historically been crucial to King Petrarch during the closing years of the Dynasty of the Warring Kings. As a gifted archer, I thought you might find it fascinating."

Katniss was intrigued by the thought of mounted archers as they galloped towards the track. She was not prepared for the awe it gave her when the archers and their august steeds moved as one, and three, four, five of them raced around the track and looped into one another's path. The archers aimed perfectly at their targets despite the speed of the horses as they moved from one target to the next, obstacles never in the way. They had an entrancing rhythm, the hoofs of the horses, the twang of the arrows, and the virility of muscles as the archers jumped with the gallop. What made it more impressive, Peeta pointed out, was that the archers controlled the horses with their legs, as both of their arms were occupied with their weapons.

She clapped in wonderment as one of the archers and his horse leapt through a high obstacle and at the arc of their jump, maneuvered his body to twist to his right and shot an arrow at a distant target and it embedded in the center.

Katniss exhaled an impressed breath as she turned to ask Peeta.

"Do you choose them first as an archer or as a rider?"

"They have to be excellent in both fields my lady, although the generals said it is easier to learn to shoot than have dominion over a horse."

With their exhibition finished, the archers formed a line in front of them, dismounted, and bowed to the Prince who in turn stood up and gave a slight bow of his head. Then they marched with their horses in tow, back to the stables.

The sun was about to set, setting the pale sky ablaze and Peeta turned to her and asked permission if she was ready to leave for her apartments once more.

Katniss was deep in thought going back to her apartments, memorizing the details of the mounted archers, fascinated at such a display of strength, that she missed what Peeta told her.

"I'm sorry?"

Peeta chuckled at her. "I knew you would like them but I didn't surmise you would now ignore me because of it."

Katniss laughed and lightly slapped Peeta's arm. They were nearing the apartments.

"Will you be staying for dinner or do you have a meeting with the King?"

"Will the lady consent to have my presence with her as she partakes in her evening meal?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. She stopped, turned to the Prince, and batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly, and murmured, in a tone that mimicked the ladies at court. She should have brought her fan for added coyness.

"I would be delighted to have His Highness over at dinner."

It was Peeta's turn to laugh as he mockingly bowed in acquiescence. Katniss enjoyed this blooming closeness she had with Peeta. She sometimes forgot he was a prince when the rigid formalities melted away and she shook her wariness and allowed herself to be swept in moment they were in.

That night, with her arms sore from practice, she asked the Prince the questions about this world she wanted answers to as they feasted over roasted meats, stews, and steaming breads.

She was laughing over his story of how Aldran had a war of words with the Fifth Kingdom's arrogant Prince Gunner in one of the minor balls last year that resulted into a fistfight where Lord Abernathy almost broke his nose as he drunkenly tried to separate the two that her belly started to ache from the contractions.

"We've been advising Lord Abernathy to cease his excessive drinking but he's as stubborn as a crowing rooster at dawn," chortled Peeta over wine. His neck was tinged pink already.

"Have you been to the other kingdoms?" asked Katniss curiously as she sipped a sweet wine.

"Not all, but I am looking forward to showing you the other kingdoms when we go on the expedition. I want you to see the Hanging Castles of the Fourth Kingdom where they carved the majestic fortresses directly onto the sides of the mountains. And if we have time, perhaps a trip to the rolling orchards of the First Kingdom where they grow the sunfruits that I am most fond of. You will like them Katniss."

And Katniss smiled as she dipped her spoon into the tart pudding in front of her. Yes, she would love to be regaled with more tales and shown the splendor of this foreign land by Peeta.

But there were also mornings and nights where even the merry prince was aloof over their meal, preoccupied with the expedition ahead. Peeta sent his regrets one night that he would be unable to join her. She was disappointed as she dined alone, but it confused her as to why it hurt. She just attributed it to loneliness and thought nothing of it anymore.

So it was to her delight that on the morning of the day before their departure, she went to her dining room expecting to break her fast alone but saw the Prince instead.

"Good morrow Katniss," the Prince greeted her softly and Katniss walked towards him.

"Apologies if I have been absorbed with my duties this week. The length of the expedition is unknown and I had to smooth over some details regarding the vassals with my Lord Father. But I thought we should spend today unworried of what lies ahead and simply cater to our whims. How would you like that?"

Katniss nodded fervently, tickled at the prospect, but still gingerly gave her hand to Peeta when he asked for it as they walked out of the room. It would do no good to be too eager, she thought.

The Prince led her out of the Royal Residences where his horse stood regal awaiting them in the stony path that overlooked the palace's expansive outer gardens. The massive rectangular pools glistened in the distance and a few of the nobility and gentry were taking walks, dotting the horizon with their colorful attires.

"Are we going out of the palace?" Katniss asked as they approached the horse.

"No, my lady, but where we're going is quite far from here but still within the palace complex. It'd be too exacting on us if we traveled by foot. Would you like to ride side-saddled?"

"No!"

The Prince laughed. "Astride it is for you then," as he helped her mount onto the saddle before he did.

Katniss leaned into the Prince as she tried to be comfortable on the galloping horse. The palace buildings were on their right, the gilded balconies in neat rows blurring past as they went westward, opposite the direction they took going to the waterfalls.

"Where are we going?" asked Katniss as she adjusted her grip on Peeta's hard waist, heating her cheeks as the cold air whipped past.

"To the Queen's villa," the Prince replied as they entered a patch of forest with bright orange leaves on proud, sturdy wood. The vivid autumn colors of the woods here still awed Katniss.

They reached a clearing after a few minutes of riding through the forest and sending the felled leaves scattered in their wake. Past the clearing was a large pond where waterfowls were leisurely swimming, surrounded by uneven grass that sprouted colorful buds. Then she saw a house behind the pond, a bucolic structure complete with a thatched roof that it was out of place if it would be made to stand beside the palace buildings. She adored it.

They stopped at the door after going around the pond and Peeta assisted her down.

"If you would wait for me here, Katniss, I would just fetch our breakfast."

She nodded at him and proceeded to look at the villa more as he went in the door. They were alone, save for the animals. No guards, no servants, no probing eyes from the people at court. Katniss heard some fowls flap their wings from afar and birds sang their morning melody. She could feel the warmth of a home from the villa, and none of the belittling feelings the palace sometimes inspired in her. The sunlight made it seem whiter, in contrast to its ebony-lined windows. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes until she heard footsteps.

The Prince carried a basket with him as well as blankets and Katniss smiled when she realized they were going on a picnic. Peeta led her to a large tree near the side of the pond and the house where they spread the blankets under the shade of its yellow leaves. She knelt on the soft blanket and helped to take the food out and spread it on the ground. She giggled when a small squirrel approached her and she threw it a small fruit.

Their breakfast was composed of breads, cheese, and fruits with some slices of smoked meat and roasted fowl. The milk was fresh and cool as it glided down her throat. Peeta sat across her, with the food in between them. She dared him to catch the tiny, textured blue fruits with his mouth as she threw it. He wasn't very good at catching them so they stopped before wasting more food.

"Why would the Queen want a villa when she had a palace to live in?" Katniss asked while buttering her roll. Peeta was chewing on some ham before replying.

"My lady mother lived in a quiet duchy of the Twelfth Kingdom, part of the family of the ruling vassal there, and when she married my father, she was not able to adjust quickly to the palace. My father had this built for her to remind her of home and this is where my brothers and I spent a lot of our childhood in. We chased the waterfowls, lambs, and rabbits around the property and swam in the pond to the consternation of our governess. You see that rock over there," the Prince pointed to a small jagged rock where a waterfowl was perched.

"I tripped chasing Matthis and my unfortunate chin landed on that rock, resulting in this scar," he took her fingers to feel a small nub under his chin.

"Of course Matthis was punished even though he had nothing to do with it and in his anger did not play with me for a month."

Katniss was amused to think of Peeta as a small child, with his golden curls tossing in the sun, chubby toddler legs and all, as he ran around the pond.

Her gaze moved back his arms and hand as he looked wistfully at the house, his head craned from her. She was always drawn to his hand and the elevated veins that were a result of all the training. He had a few calluses too, and she did not mind them when Peeta would take her hand. And his shoulders merited attention as well, broad and the seeming anchor of his body. Her eyes danced upwards, to the slope of his cheek and the lines of his jaw, to the curve of his lip like a bow, up his smooth forehead and into his crown of wavy blonde hair that the wind effortlessly glided through.

Peeta turned to her suddenly and she nearly dropped her goblet of milk.

They were almost done breaking their fast and Katniss did not want to leave yet. It seemed the Prince had the same thought because he asked if she would like to stay a few more hours there. She beamed happily, nodding her head. They cleared the blankets and returned the remaining food to the basket. Peeta folded the blanket and took the basket from her.

"Wait here please, Katniss. I will return this to the house first," he said as he touched her arm before leaving.

She watched as the Prince walked, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. Her traitorous thoughts planted an idea in her head and what it would be like to run her hand through his hair. Katniss exhaled and purged it from her mind.

She saw Peeta exit the door but walked to the other side of the pond and they were soon on the opposite edges. He curved his hands in front of his mouth and shouted,

"My lady! Can you hear me?"

Katniss laughed at the silly moment. They were like children playing house. She curved her hands in front of her and replied in earnest.

"Yes my Prince! Should I go over to you?"

And Peeta made a motion for her with his finger to come to him. She let out a laugh before running towards him, the grass tickling her feet and the sudden movement sending the waterfowls into flight.

She reached him quite breathless.

"Come on," he took her hand and they ran towards the back of the house, Peeta jumping over the wooden fence with ease and he turned to carry her by the waist over it. He took her hand once more and they ran across the grass and into another meadow at the edge of the house's shadow.

Peeta sat down in the grass and she followed suit. The ground was warm. Peeta stretched back into the ground and used his arms as a pillow for his head. Katniss leaned back on her arms, legs stretched before her, parallel to the Prince's and she smiled down at him. Here in the morning light, with all the details of his face illuminated, she saw how blue his eyes were.

"Come lie with me and let's watch the clouds together."

She complied and gingerly laid down next to the Prince, close but not touching, mimicking Peeta's position.

"When was the last time you were here?"

"The morning before I met you. I often go here when everything's too much. You sent us all in a panic you know, or the signs did, rather. And my best memories are here."

"Did your father come here with you before, when you were younger?"

Peeta let out a soft chuckle. "Yes he did, he spent every moment he could away from court with us here. My brothers and I would sit around the wooden table in the kitchen as our mother and father prepared our meal. We had no servants in the villa, it was just us. And it was magical and we were happy. My father, brothers, and I would play games, hiding in the woods and sparring with our play swords. Sometimes I would help Mother in the kitchen, sometimes it was Aldran. Matthis never deigned to cook because he always burned the food. And at dawn, my father would ride back to the palace but he would be back here at midday and then in the evening, and Mother never failed to greet him with a kiss. My brothers and I would spy on them from the windows of our shared room and wait for our father to look up at us and give us a smile."

Katniss felt a burn in her eye as she listened to Peeta recall the moments when his family was complete, his voice soft and rueful. She raised her head and used her hand to support it, turned her body towards him, and said,

"Thank you for bringing me here."

Peeta looked at her and smiled in welcome and she went to lie back again.

She closed her eyes and allowed her body's tension to melt away. Their companionable silence was comforting and there was no need to fill the space with words. She breathed in and she could hear him breathe out. The rhythm lulled her to sleep.

She woke up a moment later and the clouds have changed. The sun was even brighter as it took its highest position. She turned to Peeta and saw that he too was asleep. Katniss had never seen a man asleep beside her before, vulnerable, and the planes of his face smoothed as he dreamt. She liked watching him sleep and wanted to rest her head on the rising and falling of his chest. One of his hands was over his stomach, the other still resting behind his head.

Katniss watched him for some time before his eyes opened and he blinked to adjust to the light.

She was still on a high when she murmured, in a tone mocking the ladies at court, but crestfallen at the breaking of the prior enchantment he held over her,

"Would my Prince consent to divulge where off to next shall we go?"

Peeta laughed softly at her attempt and replied in earnest that after the midday meal, they shall be touring the palace, because he distinctly remembered her being cross at running around the palace lost like a beheaded chicken. And that they shall be having chicken for their lunch in honor of her vexation. She rolled her eyes at that and he stood to lead her back to his horse and back to his apartment for lunch.

Katniss threw one last look at the rustic house before they left by horse once again. The untamed forest led them back to the manicured gardens and they were soon heading to the Royal Residences, the contrast of the luxuriant palace and the villa made her wish they had not gone back.

After the meal, Katniss was introduced to the different halls, buildings, rooms, apartments, wings, and quarters that made up the palace. It was impossible to remember everything so she ventured on telling Peeta that it would be wonderful if he were to draw her a map to complement their afternoon tour.

She thought the throne room to be stuffy and creepy and cold from all the unsmiling portraits of the past monarchs gracing its walls, but thought the Queen's drawing room to be a more pleasant place, with its softly colored walls, buttery carpets, and the favorite flowers of the Queen still present in the room, changed everyday by her remaining ladies-in-waiting, despite her death many years ago. Peeta said that the flowers were at the insistence of the King.

They took their afternoon tea at the Queen's drawing room. She was feeling drained from the day's activity and the Prince noticed this. He said, with a hint of a snigger, that it was unfortunate, because their last stop would have been the jewels vault, but if the lady was fatigued, then he will escort her to her chambers instead.

"I am perfectly fine to see the jewels Peeta, but if _you_ were tired from all the activities, you only had to say so and I would have allowed you an hour's retreat into your chambers," she replied haughtily while breaking her scone.

Peeta's eyes crinkled when he smiled and Katniss found herself drawn to it, looking to see if every smile he gave crinkled in the corner where his cheeks would lift ever since she first noticed such an endearing trait. They sipped the last drop of tea and Katniss felt a renewed energy at the thought of seeing the crown jewels.

A tiny part of her hoped that she could try some on herself, even if it was just an everyday tiara or a tinkling wristlet. They were soon inside the building housing the vault, in the inner circle of the palace complex, fortified and guarded as much as His Majesty's wing. Peeta guided her, by her elbow around one tall glass case where the ceremonial crown of the King was enclosed, by her hand as he showed her the scepter with a hefty diamond the size of her fist in another case, and by the small of her back when they stopped to look at the ceremonial vestments of the Grand Duke and the Prince during state affairs.

Katniss let out a snort when her eyes trailed upwards on the Grand Duke's vestment, which ended in an odd, platinum filigree headpiece surrounded by emeralds and surmounted by the head of a bird where great white plumages spurt like a curved fountain.

"Your kingdom seems to be fascinated with birds," she quipped, and the Prince looked mockingly affronted.

"I'll have you know, my lady, that these ceremonial headpieces were from the time before the Dynasty of the Warring Kings."

"No feathered crowns for the King then?" She asked, while looking around to see if there were any more of the comical pieces.

"I'm afraid not, the heir to the throne was meant to have the only striking coronal to distinguish him as the next sovereign."

She turned back to Peeta and mouthed an "Oh" before walking towards another glass case, lower than the earlier ones, this time housing the jewelries of the Queen.

There was one necklace that immediately caught her eye, a delicate entanglement of diamonds so tiny they seemed to melt into each other.

"I knew you would like that," Peeta said, coming up behind her to look at the case and at the necklace her eyes were trained on.

"These came with my mother when she married my father. It was an heirloom piece from their family, an ancient line of royals from the northwest duchy, which was once a kingdom of its own before King Petrarch assimilated them into his growing territory. It had been said that this necklace was forged from the breath of a thousand fairies who gifted it to their line's first Queen because she was as radiant as the sun," and Peeta opened the case to retrieve the jewelry and handed it to Katniss.

But before Katniss could admire the necklace fully, a Privy Gentleman of the Prince excused himself and informed Peeta that the King was requesting him for one more meeting before their departure.

When the Privy Gentleman bowed to leave, the Prince turned back to Katniss and apologized that he must cut their afternoon commitment short, but that he would see her when they dine tonight. He asked another of his Privy Gentleman to escort her back to her apartments.

Come dinnertime, Katniss was quiet, anxious about the upcoming expedition, the excitement of the day unable to break her growing sense of foreboding, that she was unable to eat much. She thought it for the better since taking a trip was more comfortable when one was not bloated.

It was her impression that the highlight of her day had passed with all the things they did together but she was mistaken. The peak of her delight was that night, just before Prince Peeta left her apartment after dinner, he surprised her once more when he inched his face closer than usual that she had no trouble distinguishing his blue irises from his pupils, gazed at her longer and more intensely before pressing a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek and bid her a good eventide.

* * *

The continued attacks by the hostile force had derailed the Chancellor's plans but Plutarch Heavensbee is undeterred. Seneca Crane was of the opinion that they had no more time but Plutarch knew that the seeds he had been carefully sowing over the months would come to fruition soon. If any, the attacks had made the Chancellor keener in speeding up the timeframe of their ploys. He entrusted this to Plutarch and left Minister Crane to deal with the unknown threat.

Now, as he sat at his study with scrolls in front of him and the dying lamp by his table, he rubbed his face as he tried to sort out where to start. The moon had long risen over the Capitol and the sun would soon make its appearance, signaling the start of the day he would report his progress to the Chancellor.

When he thought of all the schemes he had been plotting, all the dealings with the monarchs he had to endure over the years, he wondered if the small, curious boy the son of the Chancellor's lowly retainer was still alive in him. He had certainly come a long way that was fraught with frailties he had to overcome as he hardened his conscience. Now he was the Chancellor's right hand, the face the monarchs and the Council members had to deal with while Minister Crane traversed the delicate underground.

He wondered if his father would be proud of what he had accomplished.

But his father was a simple man with simple dreams who could not have fathomed the despair he felt at some decisions he had to make and orders he had to carry out. His father, Plutarch remembered, taught Plutarch the simple morality that he lived by, the same morality taught to him by his father, that one should avoid greed at all cost. Greed led one to take from your brethren, his father once told him. Greed can make you take the life of another, thereby making you also a theft of the lives that depended on the person you have killed. Greed for power, greed for pleasure, every turn he took under the Chancellor burned his father's legacy.

He can imagine the specter of his father now, standing before him as he contemplated and plotted the final stages of the Chancellor's plans more in detail. His father appeared in his dream that night he ordered the death of Prince Matthis, doleful and disapproving. What was only supposed to be a warning to the Chancellor's powerful rival in King Owain sparked the idea that now turned into the plot of running Panem to its knees. It was not anymore simply a message of the Chancellor to his rivals that he was untouchable. The Chancellor was now bent on killing his enemies and seizing power. But there had to be a legitimate reason for it, ironically breaking the law and following it at the same time, so for months, Plutarch Heavensbee had been toiling hard, sowing seeds of doubt among the monarchs and orchestrating the sabotage of their economies.

He saw in his mind the culmination of their plans now. If the seeds of discord grew, if Seneca Crane upheld his end of the plans, and if the monarchs played right into the Chancellor's schemes like the broken Prince Gloss would, whatever frail alliances the monarchs had will be severed in the wake of their economic plight and on the wings of their pride and greed, aided by the assassinations he will order. Then amidst the smoke from the battles of the monarchs, the lands made barren by the artificial hunger they will sow, the Chancellor will make the Council grant him unequaled, emergency powers that the Chancellor will not let go of. And he, Minister Heavensbee, will climb in honor with the Chancellor.

Yes, that should make his father proud.

But the specter in his head only looked at him in sorrow. He wearily ignored it as he dipped his pen in the inkpot. Once he signs the covert orders in front of him, the quell of the Chancellor's enemies would commence.

* * *

Katniss felt a soft nudge at her shoulder and she sleepily realized that it was Prince Peeta trying to wake her. They left the palace at dawn, and now Peeta told her to look out the windows of the spacious carriage as the sunrise woke the city. Descending from the tall location of the palace offered Katniss a majestic view. The sunlight kissed the buildings and made them glow and their blue-tiled roofs crowned them in perfect complement.

"I didn't think you would have wanted to miss it," the Prince murmured.

Katniss mumbled her thanks and excused herself to go back to sleep, for she had little sleep the night before as thoughts of blue eyes kept her awake. She pulled her fur blanket closer and ignored the fact that her source of distress last night was now in the carriage with her. She needed her wits about her as she tried to maneuver the tricky feelings Peeta awakened.

When she awoke again for what seemed like only a few hours, the sun was already brightly shining through the window and the Prince was still sitting across, sometimes glancing at a few scrolls in front of him, sometimes looking out at the fields and forests blurring past them.

"Where are we off to again?" Katniss asked blearily.

"Oh you are awake my lady. I hope you do not feel obliged to keep me company. We still have quite a journey to cover and we would have to stop for the night as well."

"You didn't answer my question," she said as she straightened her arms.

"Oh, apologies for that Katniss," Peeta sheepishly said and consulted one of the scrolls.

"We will be going to the nearest location, the one in the islands, aptly translated from the Tablet as the Lair of the Sirens."

"Sirens?" Katniss wrinkled her nose. "Like singing mermaids?"

The Prince just shrugged. "I hope you will forgive my lack of knowledge. I am only also peeling the curtain of ignorance over the legend's details at the same time as you."

When Katniss yawned again, Peeta teased her about probably not being the Mockingjay but instead being another character from his bedtime stories that slept and slept until he didn't wake anymore and lived in his dreams. This prompted Katniss to retort that their realm had weird bedtime stories unlike hers. Then the Prince proposed that to pass the time, they tell each other more about their respective worlds. Katniss started.

"Ok, my favorite bedtime story when I was a child was Rumpelstiltskin." And it was Prince Peeta's turn to wrinkle his nose.

"Rumpelstiltskin? How can you slumber soundly when the story that delivers you to your dreams has a name as peculiar as Rumpelstiltskin?" And Katniss laughed at the Prince's perplexed expression.

"So what was your favorite bedtime story then?"

The Prince pretended to think as he stroked his chin in thought. "The Legend of the Mockingjay, most certainly," he said with a nod after a pause. Katniss rolled her eyes. Then she asked again.

"My turn. Where else have you traveled in Panem?"

Peeta laughed at her eagerness and proceeded to unfurl a small map in front of them, atop the fur blanket.

"When I was younger, I would accompany the King and Queen when they were invited by the other monarchs as courtesies. Among my favorites were the Seventh Kingdom—"

And he took her hand and guided a finger to point at the territory near what was marked as "Capitol" and as wide as the three territories of the Capitol, the First Kingdom, and the Second Kingdom above it.

"—near the center of Panem, with their giant trees whose trunks could only be embraced by twenty men and the cool air from their perpetual spring, and the Ninth Kingdom—"

They moved their hands to an island southeast of the Seventh, below another massive island marked as the Tenth Kingdom.

"—all the way in the south with their perpetual summer. Their markets at sultry nights sold the most bizarre things I have ever seen and fascinated me. My mother even forbade my father from bringing home some of the things we found there, which in turn upset my brothers because they were the ones left at the palace and insisted to be presented with unique souvenirs. Then the sand mountains of the Fifth Kingdom—"

Then their hands went back up the map, to a territory west of the First Kingdom.

"—beside the Seventh were also breathtaking, but Mother did not want to go back because we nearly lost our way there. Father said she worried too much and that _he_ would only be worried if we were lost in desert fields of the Third Kingdom in the south."

And their hands stopped at the narrow yet long territory southwest of the Fifth and Sixth Kingdoms.

Katniss painted Peeta's words in her head and was enthralled with the portrait she came up with. It made her almost wish to skip the expedition, as she looked at the marked ones where they will go, in the Fourth Kingdom and the Eighth Kingdom, and convince Peeta to tour Panem instead. She longed to hear of every kingdom's beauty to help her deal with the anxiety over the expedition. But she asked a different question that interested her.

"What about the other monarchs? Are they snooty like the people at court?"

The Prince chuckled at her expression when she asked.

"I have yet to meet all the kings, queens, princes, and princesses but there are some who I've built friendships with, like the Grand Duke of the Fourth Kingdom, Prince Finnick and his brother Prince Marcel. Their father, King Helios, has been an ally and close friend of my father for a long time. He was the one who took me on a tour of the Hanging Castles. We may have a chance to meet them if we were to go to the Unification Ball. But I think I have spoken enough already. How about you my lady, may I be enchanted by your world?"

Then Katniss told Peeta about the technologies of her world, of airplanes, cars, tablets, touch screens, and voice-activated assistants, and Peeta jokingly exclaimed that perhaps it was her world that needed saving from such prevalent dark magic.

They reached the edge of the Twelfth Kingdom by nightfall and they had to camp among the rocky beach beneath towering cliffs before they sailed tomorrow to reach the Lair of the Sirens. The whole retinue was in a state of flux, soldiers and servants carrying chests here and some assembling tents there. She could also smell the faint scents of dinner being prepared, all while the gentle lapping of waves coursed through the campsite and the shiny moon bore down from the dark sky.

Katniss followed the wooden chests bearing her things and was surprised that they were delivered to the same tent as the Prince's. The tent was large and opulent and it could have been a suite in the palace had it not been for flaps of canvas instead of walls separating the compartments. It had a receiving area that shared space with plush seats, rugs, and several tables, presumably for study and for dining. She hurried to inspect the place and was uncomfortable with the idea of sharing the tent and having just ornate canvasses separating their sleeping quarters, granted even if their sleeping quarters were on opposite sides and had the whole receiving area in between. She immediately accosted Peeta when he went inside the tent and insisted to be given her own. Katniss did not want people talking about loose morals behind her back.

But Prince Peeta was adamant. They were sharing the tent for security reasons. She was now an essential figure to their kingdom and he, the prince, had been given the paramount duty of protecting her. He even assured her that none of the people in their retinue would think ill of it. They were on a mission for the holy Sect, after all. And it was a big tent anyway.

* * *

Peeta raised the flap of the tent's entrance so Katniss could pass ahead of him as they made their way towards the dining area, all the while muttering to herself and looking surreptitiously around. They passed by the mounted tents of the retinue and soldiers on different stages of preparation for the voyage tomorrow.

If it were some other person other than Katniss he would have found her insistence annoying. But the girl in the carriage who animatedly told him all about her world had vanished and replaced by this restless girl bent on defending herself against imagined attacks on her virtue.

Of course, any other lady, ironically, would have jumped at the opportunity to share a tent with an eligible prince and conceal their intents by being shy and coquettish about the matter. But not Katniss. He glanced down at her, now glaring at a guard whose only fault was to bid them a good eventide.

They were nearing the dinner table and a worried Katniss was an unresponsive dinner companion, which was something he wanted to avoid after seeing her exuberant side. He decided he needed to put her at ease the best way that worked on her, through teasing.

He leaned down close to her, his nose touching the waves of her hair, and whispered, with a hand at the small of her back. Her chest immediately puffed up at the contact, back tensely straightened in reflex.

"My lady, the only one thinking ill of our arrangement is you. The only one agitating yourself is you. Might I suggest letting go of your devised prudish demons? The King himself handpicked the people here for their loyalty. They know not to question the actions of their sovereign. Unless of course your distress is stemming from a hidden desire to enact the fantasies in your head. If that would put you at ease, I will gladly comply for my lady."

The effect was instantaneous.

With her nostrils flared in anger, she narrowed her eyes at him like a hawk and stomped all the way to the dinner table, leaving him at her wake. The men at the table rose when she approached. One of the servants helped her onto the bench and they all sat. They were dining on a long table, the guards, the Captain, and some of the Privy Gentlemen. The others who were still working would dine after them. He insisted on an easy level of camaraderie on the expedition and that included foregoing a separate table for him and Katniss.

He took his seat next to her and began serving her food from the fare laid out in the middle. Katniss was still fuming but looked less tense. He made sure to give her an extra helping of the roasted fowl she favored, along with the creamed leeks. Food always helped her moods.

The dinner table, however, provided the perfect setting for the more jovial guards to air their wisecracking good-naturedly over the matter of the shared tent. She looked about ready to throw her dinner fork at one of the guards when he poured more wine for her in an effort to shift her attention back.

"More wine, my lady?"

"Yes please," she replied, glaring at the ruby liquid. She took the goblet greedily and chugged the wine at a rate that alarmed Peeta a bit.

He leaned close so only she can hear what he had to say.

"Katniss, you may want to channel your reservations to your wine consumption. The one we have here is more robust than the wine you are accustomed to in the palace."

"Nonsense!" She declared, tilting the goblet back more before putting it down. It was almost empty. She went back to slicing her fowl.

He sighed. Perhaps the fourth serving of wine was a bad idea. Peeta saw the telltale flush creeping up Katniss's neck and the way her grip on her cutlery slackened. He began to worry.

When she finished eating, her knife clanged loudly against her fork and she blinked several times before turning to him with a blissful smile and slightly unfocused eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but paused several times before finally saying her piece, head lolling to the side, and the punctuations of her sentences ended in a high pitch. Curses, she was drunk.

"I had a good dinner but I'm sleepy now, can we go back to our tent?"

He was in for a rough night, if the time Aldran was intoxicated was any indication of what happened when people got drunk.

"Of course my lady."

She tried to get up but almost fell to her plate so he had to steady her by her arm. Her hands slammed to the sides of the plate, sending the silverware and goblets tinkling.

"Oh I can do this Prince Peeta, you don't have to help." She said as she turned to him. And perhaps she meant to clap him on the shoulders but all she ended up doing was slapping him on the cheek. Their companions stood up when they did and he hurriedly escorted her before someone can throw a jibe.

She moved quite upright for an inebriated girl, although he still had to grip her shoulders as a precaution and led her to the tent for the wine had washed her sense of direction away.

Inside the tent, she weakly pushed him aside and wobbled to her sleeping quarters, not bothering to flip the canvas but opting to barrel through it instead. He followed her and she paused by her bed, moving her head from side to side as if searching for something.

"Is something the matter I can help you with my lady?" Peeta asked when he reached her side. He felt guilty and responsible for serving her the goblet that led to this.

Katniss turned to him and leaned all of her weight into his chest, slowly falling like the beginning rain, all while laughing and slurring. He had to put his arms around her waist to keep her from sliding down.

"Youuuu… You're… You're smart eh. Smaaaart." She beat her fist weakly to his chest and her eyes widened before every pause.

Her head was tilted up to his, still with an endearing, beatific smile. She nodded sagely before speaking.

"I shoulda known you were up to somethiiiiing. Boys our age only think of one thiiiiing."

And he laughed.

"Alright, my lady. It's time for bed. We have a long day tomorrow."

She slinked down to sit at the edge of the bed and tilted her head again to look at him. She may have some stiffened muscles there tomorrow.

But she shouted, startling him. "I have a quessstion!" She closed her eyes and raised her right arm up. "You cannot leaaave without answering it!" She swayed slowly, like a tree that was just broken by an axe, with eyes still closed.

"What is your query then, my lady?"

"You need to hear it so come heeere!" She looked up and he was unprepared for her sudden grip on the front of his dress shirt and the surprisingly strong force with which she pulled him down to her and into the bed.

Peeta had a fraction of a second to hold his arms up so he would not crash into the girl. They were not fully lying on the bed. Katniss's legs were still dangling off the edge and his was in the middle of hers. He reddened at their position and willed his arms not to fail him. He was looking directly onto her face, her dark hair splayed in the mattress, and she looked at him innocently. He can smell the oils that perfumed her hair.

"That's better," she slurred, slapping him slowly twice on the cheek. A finger was languidly tracing his jaw up and down.

"My lady,"

And she silenced him with the finger that left his jaw in favor of his lips. She was silent for a time before she giggled. Peeta let out a grunt when he felt her foot playfully run up and down his leg, her knee brushing on sensitive spots over his thigh. Her other hand ran through his hair and he winced when she forcefully untangled a knot.

"Now I remember my quessstion. What time do we leaaave tomorrow? I have my girl stuff rituals to do and I don't wanna cause any delaaay."

With the proximity of their bodies, he was now more keenly aware of how her chest rose with every breath, how startlingly gray her eyes were, and how pink the tongue that shot out to moisten her lips. Coupled with her foot's ministrations, they were starting to have a dangerous effect on him. He cleared his throat before replying.

"We would not depart until you are ready, Katniss."

"Okaaay." She replied sadly with furrowed brows.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Nooo… I don't think you can help me when I go…"

He stilled.

"And where would you go my lady?"

"Back to my world, silly."

Peeta exhaled. Katniss continued tracing his face with her fingertips.

"You shouldn't be soooo sweet you know. It's already bad enough that when I go back to my world, no one's ever going to measure up to you," Katniss whispered, her eyes sad yet her tongue freed by the alcohol.

"The tragedy is that I will always compare them to you and they will always fail."

Peeta looked away from her piercing eyes that held an innocence the child in him reflected back. Her unguarded revelations elated him and stoked the hope he kept. Yes, but hope can only carry him so far. It will not bridge the chasm of their two worlds. He looked to the candle stand by the corner of the room, the wax falling in fat tears as the fire consumed it.

Katniss moved his chin back so he could look at her again.

He smiled sadly at her and she stared back. He whispered.

"You can always choose to stay. Stay with me."

"I don't know," she whispered sadly. "I don't know the rules to your world's game."

Peeta shifted his weight so he can support himself with one arm and the other occupied with sweeping the hair off Katniss's forehead, his hand as gentle as the caress her fingers bestowed him. He would stay with her until she slept. Then he would go to his own bed and perhaps forget his troubles with dreams.

"Do you want to hear a story, Katniss?"

Her eyes were closed but she snorted. "Another one?"

"Why yes. As you said, our realm is full of stories."

Katniss nodded sleepily. This was a story his mother told him.

"Long ago there were two stars, one was a princess and a daughter of the king of heaven, and one was a fierce warrior. They met and fell in love and the warrior asked the king for the princess's hand. The king agreed and they were to be married straightaway. But their love consumed them that they left their duties unattended so the king was angry and he banished the warrior. The princess wept bitter tears but her friends, the doves, promised to make a bridge across the sky so she can cross and meet her lover. But the doves can only do this once a year and the princess waited and waited and counted the days until she can be reunited with the warrior. Sometimes we see the princess star in the sky; at another time of the year it's the warrior we see. And we know not if the doves kept their word. Is it not sad, Katniss?"

He noticed her breathing getting deeper and her eyes fluttering. She nodded her head. Her response time was lagging, he amusedly noticed. Her foot also stilled.

When he was sure she was asleep, he tucked a stray hair off her face, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and whispered,

"Pleasant dreams, Katniss."

And Peeta wished, again, so fervently, that there was indeed a bridge, but for them. He would build one to her while she lived here. He would pray for one to her world if she went back. But like the story his mother told him, they both had to wait and see.

And he stood up, exhaling the breath he did not know he kept in.

* * *

She was sure she had a dream, Katniss thought the following morning as she prepared for breakfast. A female servant was helping her with her underpinnings after she cleaned herself. Peeta had already left the tent when she woke up and it was to her relief as well because she did not want the Prince to see her in all her morning glory.

She remembered awaking hours after her drunken encounter with Peeta, though the details were blurry to her. She dreaded asking him about it. She had a crick on her neck and she changed to her nightgown before going back to bed. Her dream came after a long time of just lying in bed and waiting for sleep to come. The light had been extinguished from the Prince's side and she was sure he was already sleeping. She lay there thinking of her sister and aunt, sometimes Madge, and what they would think of her prolonged absence. Katniss fell asleep in the middle of formulating a plausible reason.

_Katniss was back in the field she woke up in when she first arrived in Panem. The air was still crisp and the tall grasses swayed with the soft breeze but the sun was absent. The sky was forlorn without its bright companion._

_Then a frightened voice called out to her._

"_Mockingjay!"_

_She turned around to see the fairy, but she was back to the little girl that played with Katniss in the woods._

_The girl ran to Katniss and wrapped her arms around Katniss's middle and was shaking._

_Katniss immediately hugged her and whispered soothing words while stroking her dark hair._

_Then the girl looked up to her, grimacing and in tears, and said._

"_Beware the Lair of the Sirens, Mockingjay."_

If anything happened after, she did not remember anymore. What did strike her was how the girl's face was acutely contorted in pain as she gave her warning. It was her first thought when she woke up and over-thinking the girl's cryptic message gave her a headache, on top of the wine's after effects.

She had the servant loosen her corset a bit. She also thanked Lady Portia in silence for the layered pantsuits, which were far more comfortable than dresses in this journey. She laced her boots and braided her hair. She adjusted the bangle on her arm underneath the sleeves and looked at the mirror one more time, the locket dangling out. Katniss wondered where she would find Peeta and decided to play it cool and not appear disturbed by anything that may have transpired last night while walking out the tent.

The campsite was till in a flurry as she walked past the different tents, soldiers, and servants. The cliffs were stark white and crowned with green while the sun was nowhere to be found and only the blanket of clouds was present in the morning sky. She found Peeta talking to the Captain over the table that held their food for the morning. The Captain alerted the Prince to her approach and Peeta turned to beam at her.

She did not know what to do with the sudden flutters in her belly or the warm feeling she got when she looked him straight in the eye. This was probably still the effect of the wine. She was also just imagining it, that Peeta looked at her differently this morning.

Wine or no wine, Katniss knew she had to halt her growing infatuation with Peeta. The waterfalls started it and the little excursion the other day nourished it. Yes, that was what this was, all the tickling feelings and sudden blushing she did before had a name now and Katniss knew she was skirting dangerous territory. But stopping it was such an arduous task since the Prince was very generous in showering her with smiles and subtle touches. Even now, in anticipation of what he would say, she found it hard to suppress a smile at the thought of the timbre in his voice.

No, it would not do. Perhaps if she vomited, she could expel the wine's effects quicker.

_This_ was only a distraction from focusing on the mission at hand, which was to fulfill her duty as the Mockingjay, preferably unscathed, so she can go back to her world and go on with her life.

But she had yet to figure out _how _she was going to stop the butterflies and the Prince's attention will certainly not help.

Prince Peeta walked longer strides than her so he reached her first. He had a teasing glint in his eye.

"Good morrow, my lady. Did you slumber well?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

"And I hope your morning girl stuff rituals went as planned?"

"Excuse me?"

He leaned in and she can smell the fresh scent of the morning on his skin. She breathed a little deeper.

"You were telling me about your morning girl stuff rituals last night before you slept. It would please me to hear that they went well."

She cringed at the thought of what she could have possibly done, or said. The last time she got tipsy was at Sapphire's party when their class played a drinking game and she and Madge drunk dialed a senior boy on a dare.

She sucked in a breath and looked over Peeta's shoulder before looking back at his smiling face.

"I am _so_ sorry for last night. I did not mean to get drunk and I will listen to you from now on with regard to the wine. Did I do anything embarrassing? You would tell me if I said anything embarrassing, right? And I didn't throw up on you I hope?"

Peeta laughed and shook his head.

"I wouldn't tell. There's nothing to feel alarm over, but you were very eager to have your opinion heard. But let us not dwell on it any further when the day waits to be lived. May I escort you to break your fast, my lady?"

"Yes please," Katniss replied demurely, exhaling relief. She shoved the drunken thing at the back of her mind, to be scrutinized when she had the spare time and energy because she had other things to worry about again apart from the expedition. Now that she had admitted to being infatuated with the Prince, the flutters came at a fuller force and she can hear her heartbeat echoing in her head as his light touch led her to the table.

_Damn it! This is really bad_, she thought, annoyed.

Peeta was serving her food, fruits of different sizes and textures and color that she wanted to taste them all to satiate her curiosity. A dark purple one tasted like mellow, candied ginger while a small, scaly fruit burst with the flavor of orange but tickled her tongue like a mango.

The Prince sat beside her after seeing to it that her plate was full and began to get food for himself. Katniss took a squashy, rotund fruit with flesh a deep hue of fuchsia and speckled with black seeds. It tasted tart but it emitted a floral perfume at the back of her throat.

She turned to the Prince to ask about what they will be doing today.

"We shall be leaving immediately after our meal my lady. We have half a day's journey to go by ship to reach the cluster of islands. According to the book Priestess Sae gave, we are to traverse the woods in the largest island and reach the lagoon in its center. Then we begin the laborious task of finding the pearl."

"You mean we don't know where it is exactly?"

"Yes, but if you would consider that we need not visit the other islands and comb it for the pearl, then the lagoon is a small place search."

Katniss shrugged in compliance and reached for a small yellow fruit the size of her thumb and popped it in her mouth. It immediately burned her tongue and she grabbed the goblet in front of her, gagging more when she drank it and realized it was a sweet wine but alcoholic nonetheless. Peeta immediately fussed over her, asked a servant for a pitcher of water, and she made the mistake of looking at the guards nearby, the same teasing, rowdy bunch from last dinner. They were all looking at the scene with barely-masked glee. She glared at them when her coughing died down but it was less menacing when paired with a face still red from choking. The guards roared more in laughter. After that unfortunate incident, Katniss stuck to eating fruits she already tasted and did not venture to expand her palate anymore.

Peeta was still fretting over her, patting her back as they made their way to the ship after breakfast. She had to playfully swat his hand away and reassure him that she was fine.

The camp never saw rest, for now the retinue was cleaning and packing and loading the ship for the journey. Most of the retinue would be left on the mainland and only a handful of the guards and the Privy Gentlemen were accompanying them to the island.

Aboard the ship, the passing wind whipped at her in cold fury and she was unaccustomed to the temperature. It was not long before she was shivering and was about to retrieve her coat when one was wrapped around her shoulders. She looked up to see Peeta smiling down at her before going back to the group of men he was talking to.

When she inhaled, she smelled his scent. And now Katniss was suddenly more aware of his presence, more than before, whether he was lingering in her peripheral or she was singling out his voice in the raucous laughter that filled the ship's deck.

She tried to clear her head with the view she can now focus on since she was no longer shivering. Most of the islands were tall, ragged cliffs that jutted out of the water, and she saw tens and tens of them scattered through the sea. Some were vast but others were merely enough to accommodate a lone tree. A seabird squawked here and there. The sun finally peaked through one woolly cloud.

They reached the largest island faster than anticipated and the Captain barked out the orders to prepare to dock as the fiery colored forest loomed closer.

_This is it_, she thought.

When she alighted, she would officially be starting her responsibility as the Mockingjay. She fiddled with the bangle on her arm and twisted the locket on her neck. All the over-thinking she did must have paid off for she felt nothing but acceptance towards the expedition now.

Katniss immediately wondered where Peeta was. When she realized what she did, it irked her how her traitorous subconscious sneaked him into her thoughts, easily fusing it into her reflexes.

"Are you ready to alight my lady?" An unfamiliar voice asked her after some time.

She turned to see one of the Privy Gentlemen. Her forehead creased a bit and the gentleman immediately added that Prince Peeta had gone ahead to secure the place and asked him to escort her instead.

Her hands did not shake when she touched his clammy ones as they descended from the ship. He brought her to a tent already set-up by the beach. The Privy Gentleman informed her that the Prince would be with her shortly to begin their trek.

Katniss was calm as she sat alone inside the tent, Peeta's coat folder over her arm. Her mind wandered to what she and Peeta would talk about during their trek. She sometimes wished she had a friend or someone here who can sort out her feelings with her, like Prim or Madge, or maybe even Lord Hawthorne. She snorted at the thought of girl talk with the ever-serious noble. If Aunt Effie and Madge could see the progress she made towards "being a girl" as they callously put it when she rebuffed dates, she would do them proud.

But her thoughts were now back to the would-be conversation with the blonde prince. Katniss did not want it to be awkward and she was just thinking of the questions she would ask to keep the flow going when Prince Peeta entered the flap of the tent.

He smiled as he walked and knelt in front of her. The gesture made her tense as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Are you ready for the trek my Lady Katniss?"

"I think so. Yes. Do we go now?"

And Peeta helped her up. She returned his coat with a thanks and he tucked her hand in his arm as they went out the tent. The forest was different than the ones she saw back at the mainland. The tree trunks were thinner and the branches more wiry. The small leaves were a startling yellow and the ground was soft. There were no bushes but the forest floor was dotted with flowers with oddly shaped petals.

A vanguard led the way and the rear guards were quite far to their back, allowing them enough privacy for her planned talk. Katniss was waiting for the right time but decided it would get more awkward if she waited so she took the plunge and blurted the one thought nagging her, as implausible as it may be.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

The Prince frowned down at her in surprise. Perhaps that was a little too forward and not at all what she had in mind. She groaned inwardly and hoped she did not ruin anything. Then to make up for her gaffe, she started babbling.

"I mean, I'm just curious. You see, I've been keeping lists in my head about your world's royalty and my world's royalty. It's kind of like a family thing you know, 'cause my Aunt Effie went nuts over Princess Diana when she saw her wedding when she was a kid. She told me she immediately planned her own wedding after that and even drew her own wedding gown complete with a wand with her crayons! Yes, I think that's why she's a wedding planner now." She simpered pathetically into silence. Talking about weddings now was not helping her.

Peeta, thankfully, was also chuckling. But she now dreaded what he had to say.

"No, I do not have a lady friend. But I was betrothed once, to Lady Delilah Cartwright. However, we ceased the agreement a year ago when it was glaringly apparent that it would be more beneficial for both of us to be friends."

Katniss wanted badly to ask why but feared she may have crossed a line already. It was now or never though.

"May I ask why? For research purposes of course." She added with what she hoped was a straight face.

The Prince smiled down at her, indulgent, and paused to gather his thoughts.

"We had been friends since childhood and that was perhaps a reason that pushed my Lord Father to consider the betrothal. But as I said, it was clear that our affections would not grow beyond friendship, unlike the betrothal of my parents. My mother said that they developed a genuine fondness for one another over the years. But I want more than fondness for my marriage," Peeta trailed wistfully as he guided her by the hand through the terrain.

Katniss dropped the goofy smile she hid from him before looking back up and replying.

"That's too bad. I'm sure you broke her heart."

Prince Peeta chuckled some more and smiled wryly. "I think I broke her father's dreams more and he's been hounding me ever since. It's now my turn, my lady, since we're in an atmosphere of curiosity. Are you betrothed?"

Katniss decided to play along.

"Oh heavens no! My poor Aunt Effie cannot possibly afford me a dowry."

"Is a gentleman courting you then?"

She thought of that boor Stanislaus.

"There might be one, but he's pompous and I ignore him."

"And rightfully so, my lady. A gentleman should never be presumptuous of a lady's preference unless she has given her permission to be courted."

She smiled in triumph at that. They were about to reach a clearing in the woods and she can smell the moist scent of water. They must be nearing the lagoon.

All these new stuff repelled a part of her but another part was happy with the giddy feelings. But what was making her head spin more was when she thought of what Peeta was _feeling _towards her_. _Surelythere must be _something_ there, what with the gestures that were beyond the ordinary ('cause Lord Hawthorne never showed those towards her) and with this Lady Delilah out of the picture, why she practically had a speed bump-free road! Katniss may be new to this dating stuff but she knew she certainly was not stupid. She did wish, however, that she had for herself a scroll that can translate all his gestures so that she'd be sure once and for all. She hated guessing. She would think about this more after they retrieved the first pearl. Right now, she should be concentrating on the expedition.

They had reached the lagoon and the atmosphere was back to that of business.

The Prince consulted the books again and looked at the wooden hut in the middle of the lagoon. Katniss looked around the clearing away from the guards. The lagoon and the woods were eerily silent, not even the chattering of birds nor the soft hoof falls of animals punctured the air. The trees's sparse yellow leaves stood still. The sounds of life were absent from these woods. She went back to the group in a shiver, after she remembered her dream and the fairy's warning.

The guards found a small, abandoned boat that can fit two people. Prince Peeta went up to her and asked if she was ready to go to the wooden hut. He would accompany her and the hut seemed the best place to start searching for the pearl.

They rode the boat with Peeta rowing and Katniss saw that that the lagoon was so clear that she saw the white sand at the bottom. But it too was devoid of any life, not even the slimy plants that usually grow in the water.

"Where are the sirens?" She asked the Prince.

Peeta just shrugged.

"Has anybody been here before?"

"It's a possibility but most of our people do not venture far from the mainland unless there is a need for it."

They arrived at the hut and Peeta helped her to the short dock made with wood that was covered in a smattering of different powdered stuff. It did not look sturdy but it was still supporting them as they walked towards the wooden hut. It smelled fishy inside and Katniss wrinkled her nose. It was sparse and had nothing on its walls save for an inscription. There was only a small pool in the middle that held a lone, long, scaly fish. It was flat on both sides, with a narrow spine, and shiny overlapping scales that looked as hard as leather. Peeta immediately began translating the inscription with the book he brought.

Katniss squatted down to look at the fish and it was odd that she thought it was looking back at her. It seemed fascinated by her hand and followed it around as she swept her arm over the pool. They played like this for a few minutes. She chuckled when they stopped and she noticed Peeta squat down beside her.

"The pearl is inside the fish," he said, pulling a long knife from his belt.

"What? So we need to kill it?" The modicum of intelligence the fish displayed made it seem like a cruelty to take its life for Katniss.

"I'm afraid so," Peeta handed the knife to her and proceeded to catch the fish. He brought it out of the water easily, with the fish gullibly thinking they were playing games. But it was now thrashing wildly on the wooden floor and Katniss could see its gills gasping and she felt sorry for the poor thing.

"Any time now my lady," the Prince said as he struggled to hold down the thrashing fish. Its tail whipped upward and drew a line on the Prince's cheek.

_Come on Katniss, it's just like fishing with dad…_

Katniss tried to calm herself by repeating that thought. It made her less prone to pitying the fish. Just as she was about to pierce its scales, she thought the fish looked at her with a resigned look in its eyes but thought nothing of it anymore when the blood oozed. The image of the frightened fairy from her dream jumped from her mind.

She gutted the fish and soon enough found the large pearl embedded in its entrails. She cleaned it of blood from the pool's water and had just placed it in the first indentation in her bangle when the wind suddenly shook with such loud high-pitched shrieks. The sound was sorrowful, piercing, and anguished, like it came from a thousand mourners. It rose and fell like the waves their ship sailed atop on. Along with the shrieks came wolf-like howls, entangling themselves onto the unholy song that would not cease.

Peeta grabbed her arm and they went out the door and ran to the boat.

A fog was creeping in from the woods and they could barely make out the guards on the shore. They rowed with haste but halfway through, the howls were mixed with the screams of humans.

It was coming from their guards and they heard the clang of weapons. They were being attacked. When they reached the shore, she saw it littered with bodies of the fallen guards and some monstrous wolf-like creatures with scraggly fur and horrible, protruding teeth. One of the felled guards was choking in his own blood from his ripped throat.

Prince Peeta had his sword out and he roared to the remaining guards to retreat back to the ship. Katniss was about to scream but Peeta turned to his side to slash through the beast about to aim for his neck. They were able to kill what attacked them and they ran, with Peeta's hand painfully digging in her wrist as he pulled her to run faster.

The excruciating shrieks continued, exploding all around them. The air vibrated with their jarring notes that there was nothing else their minds processed. Katniss was frightened more when she heard the howls of the wolf-like creatures closing in, her heart pounding loudly against her suffocating corset. Peeta's expression was of desperate concentration, the force of his hardened gaze evident in his jaw as they tried to outrun the beasts nipping at their heels. The blood of the beast he killed still dripped from his sword. Some of the guards were carrying the injured ones, some tripped and never came back up.

But no matter how fast they ran, the woods were endless, and it did not make sense. Surely they should have reached the beach by now. They had been running for a long time before the Prince ordered them to stop because they were running in circles. Katniss realized she saw that massive red flower with fat petals on the ground thrice when she only saw it once going into the lagoon.

Then a menacing whisper trilled, and like a phantom, passed through Katniss like a bucket of ice.

_A life for a life Mockingjay._

The coldness slipped down her spine as the whisper's echo didn't end.

_A life for a life Mockingjay. _

_You accursed girl. You cannot leave without repaying your debt._

_A life for a life Mockingjay. _

Katniss closed her eyes as she trembled in fear. This was her doing. She did not know if the cruel voices were asking for her life, and her paralyzed mind could not think of anything else beyond the primal urge to flee. She felt Peeta grip her harder. Unbidden tears started their plummet down the slope of her quivering cheeks.

She opened her eyes to see a guard moving towards her, part of the group that teased her, but there was no mirth in his eyes now.

The guard, gasping and clutching his stomach that bled the life out of him, walked towards her and she met him halfway. With ragged breaths he said,

"My lady, take mine. I will not last long anyway. It will be a mercy, really, and an honor to die in service of my kingdom."

Katniss cried hysterically, horrible wheezing sounds spouting from her mouth, when the guard knelt in front of her and offered her his sword, the hilt already stained with his blood. She was in a predicament. They would all die if the beasts caught up with them so she had better take this man's life while he still had one to give. But all her rationale did not help. Her hands shook terribly as she gripped the hilt with both hands and positioned the sword's tip over the bowed guard's neck.

She was murmuring her apologies through her tears but her arms would not bring the sword down. She stood there, poised to kill but had no strength to push through. Though she was a hunter, she was not a killer. The howl of the beasts drifted closer and the menacing whispers rose higher in pitch, in anticipation of their retribution. Her sight was blurred with more tears.

Then a warm pair of hands encased her trembling ones, a desperate contrast that shook her coldness away. She looked up to see Peeta, his eyes soft and held an unspeakable apology. He calmed her with his gaze and she felt the power from his arms when they plunged the sword down, together, into the sacrificing guard's neck.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Whew! What a ride!

I balked when I saw the word count. This is the longest chapter yet and I hope that made up for the slight delay in posting.

Again, thank you very much for reading! It would make me really happy if you let me know what you think :D Seriously, I read every one of the reviews with relish and a big smile on my face. To my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who put Mockings Hall in their favorite list, you are the best persons in the world!

The coming chapters will be a lot longer than the earlier ones so it'll take some time before I'm done writing and happy with them enough to post them. I hope you can bear with me. I am just as excited to share the story with you and I really want it to be the best it can be. I also don't want to break the chapters because the flow would be affected and we'd probably have like 40 of those or something. I am already working on Chapter 6 but unlike the previous ones, I can't say yet when I can post it. I'll definitely update my profile when I have a clearer target date. :D

Some side notes: The mounted archers were historically used by many warrior nations and Eurasian nomads. Conquerors like the Mongol Genghis Khan used them extensively in his conquests that gave him an empire larger than that of the Romans. The story Peeta told Katniss while she was drunk was adapted from an old Chinese tale.

Once again, The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.

Oh and I'm starting a new story! It was inspired by a prompt on HGRomance's profile, about the myth of Persephone and Hades. Watch out for the prologue and the first chapter soon! I solemnly swear it would not affect Mockings Hall.

See you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:**

**Are you ready?**

**Yes?**

**On with the show then.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Alternate Title: The Sweetest Price a Mockingjay Pays**

Peeta gripped the sword, his body swinging forward from the force and crushing her hands underneath. He felt the ground exert a resistance to the sword's tip to halt its journey down.

It was done.

Cicero Cross, the guard, knelt deathly still.

Cicero's dark hair, damp with sweat and matted with dirt, swung a tiny fraction from the force exerted. The air still thrummed with the screeching sirens and the yelps of the monstrous hounds.

He felt charged and numb at the same time. He let go of the plunged sword to grip his sheathed one in case another beast attacked.

He watched the blood spray onto Katniss's feet as she crumpled to the ground in front of the dead man, knees folding and unable to support her burden, arms limping to the sides away from the sword's beaten hilt, palms speckled from the rush of blood, and head bowed as well.

The surviving men of his decimated group murmured their prayers to their ancestors and the Protector.

He knew all of his men. He knew with one look who had fallen, which ones had wives who will mourn them, which ones had sons who will miss them, and which ones irked him when they trained because they bested him. He had laughed with them and supped with them. But they were now gone.

The smell of blood rose as the cursed whispers and howls faded.

Then the forest was silent again, innocuous, and only the pants from the men could be heard together with their uneasy footsteps as they searched their surroundings for any more threats.

Peeta breathed heavily, inhaling all the scents of the wretched island: the fear that oozed from their skin and the traitorous sense of relief from their group over their deliverance.

Cicero's blood pooled more around Katniss, staining her clothes, but before the dark pattern conquered more space, Peeta hoisted Katniss up by the arms. He called her name but her expression was vacant and she did not respond to several callings. He felt a heat emanating from her and he checked her temperature through her forehead.

She leaned against him weakly and he wrapped one arm around her as he turned to the guards and shouted the orders to collect the dead and immediately return to the ship.

He seated Katniss on a nearby fallen log and she rested her head on her interlocked fingers, shaking and retreating to a world of her own.

Peeta turned back and walked towards Cicero. He gently removed the plunged sword from the broken neck, hearing the sound of cold steel against brittle bones, and caught the body with his arm before it fell abruptly. He laid it up, straightening the leaden limbs. The eyes were closed and Cicero's final expression was one of sheer determinedness. He tore a piece of cloth from his sleeve and used it to wipe sword clean of blood. He laid the sword on Cicero's chest.

Peeta gathered several thick, fallen branches, removed his woolen tunic, and proceeded to make an improvised gurney. Someone knelt beside him and he saw the Captain shredding his tunic as well, blood streaming from a gash on his arm, to tie the gurney together. When it was finished, some of his Privy Gentlemen laid Cicero's body onto the gurney and carried it onto their shoulders.

Peeta walked towards Katniss and pulled her up again, still shaken and unresponsive. He took his place at the front of the men as a pallbearer, carrying the pole on his left shoulder while his other arm, wrapped around Katniss, supported her.

Her head was still bowed as she leaned on him.

Every living man carried a dead comrade as they began their slow, solemn march out the accursed forest towards the ship.

* * *

They boarded their vessel, laid Cicero's body beneath the deck with the other fallen, and sailed away from the island. Peeta saw Katniss twisting her bangle until the skin beneath it grew red again, her sleeves bunched at her elbows. She was sitting near the back, huddled. Thunder rolled in the distance. She was shivering again.

Peeta sat beside her and placed his coat around her shoulders, never mind that he had nothing but his trousers and boots as the icy droplets began.

"You should go into the room, Katniss," nodding towards the room at the front. "It's starting to rain."

But instead of whispering thanks, Katniss did not look at him as she spoke, tremulous hands held onto his coat.

"You didn't have to do what you did. That was my task to do."

He turned her head gently with his fingers, tucking her chin so he can look into her blazing eyes.

"You would have been unable to do it," he whispered.

Her expression hardened. "Are you calling me weak?"

"Not in the least, but have you ever killed a man?" he countered.

Katniss fell silent.

He had never taken a life as well, let alone that of a guard who had devoted his life in their service. But the moment he saw Katniss unable to push the sword with her hands, before the hounds reached them, he decided. If he could not protect her from the horrors, he would not let her carry the guilt alone.

When they reached the shore, the rain had yet to fall there, and he relayed his orders to the Captain to build pyres and take the fallen to be cleaned.

Peeta guided Katniss back to their tent and sat her in the receiving area. He retrieved and wore another woolen tunic from his trunk. When he returned, she was still in a stupor, staring blankly at the fur rug, all the fire that burned in her eyes earlier now drained. She was perhaps realizing the depths of her actions, their actions. He called for a servant to help her out of her clothes and get her cleaned as he went out the tent.

He walked slowly towards the beach, where the pyres were being erected and the dead laid in tables, naked and being scrubbed by their living comrades. He went to the table where Cicero's body was laid. There were buckets with water on the ground and rags hung by its lips. The Captain was removing Cicero's boots and Peeta turned his attention to the bloodied surcoat and the jerkin underneath and removed them. He and the Captain worked silently, the air heavy with the smell of the coming rain and the stench from the open wounds and the bowels that were loosened as the men crossed to the arms of death.

When the dead man was bare, Peeta reached for the rags and soaked it. When he came up, Katniss was across him, on the other side of the table with a wet rag on her hand. She still wore her bloodied clothes.

Stubborn girl, he thought wearily.

"Go back to the tent Katniss," he hissed exasperated and a bit more harshly than intended. He would deal with their guilt later. Now, he needed time alone to deal with his shock, his own tempestuous emotions.

"No. I need to do this too," she obstinately replied.

He took one hard look at her and proceeded to his task before her presence disturbed him.

He saw Katniss move to Cicero's head, hands reaching to clean the gash on his neck, the blood dark, thick, and caking. Peeta cleaned the cold hands in front of him, making sure to rid it of the dirt between the fingers. The Captain was cleaning Cicero's calf where a chunk was bit out by a hound. They all worked in silence; only the sound of the rags being scrubbed against bare skin could be heard. Around them other guards worked diligently. He saw Katniss looking at the man laid on the next table. She let out a whimper when she realized that the cleaned face belonged to the Privy Gentleman who escorted her. She went back to wiping Cicero's face gently.

When they were finished with the cleansing ritual, he looked around at all the dead men as the guards took the pails of dirty water and emptied them onto the sea. He would have to write the letters tonight, addressed to their living kin informing them of their son or their father or their brother or their nephew's demise in the midst of service. This was a duty his father stressed onto him when they talked the day before they departed for the mission. His mind then was still distracted by Katniss's face as she looked onto his mother's necklace. It seemed such a long time ago now.

The guards brought out the rough linen cloths and enshrouded the dead bodies with the white fabric. They were now ready for the final rites.

He and the Captain carried Cicero's body onto the tallest pyre. The other guards were laid together in the lower pyres. Katniss followed them but stayed at the ground. A guard handed her the burning torch and Peeta nodded when she asked permission with her eyes if she can hand him the torch. He gently squeezed her hand in apology for his earlier abrasion when he took the flaming wood from her but she averted her eyes from him dejectedly.

When he and the Captain went down, Cicero's still, cold body was ablaze, along with the others. He stood between Katniss and the Captain and their eyes never left the conflagration.

The heat from the fire was a welcome sensation from the iciness spreading itself on his body.

When it was over, he glanced at Katniss. She looked weakened again, and when he wrapped an arm around her shoulder to steady her, he felt a heat emanating from her once more. He gently guided her back to their tent and called the female servant to help her get cleaned and dressed.

Then Prince Peeta turned to leave. He could not stay still.

He lifted the flap to walk out, slowly, his feet burdened. The camp was noisy around him but the moves of the inhabitants were weighted from what had happened. Peeta walked past the smoking pyres. He did not flinch at the wretched, cloying smell of charred bones. He walked on the shore until the sputtering waves kissed his feet, and walked more, until the water reached his waist. Peeta thought of the island, the menacing screams, the hounds, his dying brothers at arms. He thought nothing of the cold water or the force of the waves undulating past him. He thought of the swords, medals, vestments to be returned, delivered with the letters he will write and seal with melted wax. The salty water was now at his neck as he faced the dying sun. He thought of Katniss as her strength left her after they pushed the sword and killed Cicero. He took a deep breath and plunged his head down into water, where the scent of blood did not reach his nose, where the sound of the crackling wood from the pyres did not reach his ears, where there was nothing.

* * *

Seneca Crane was in the dank chambers beneath the council rooms today, adjacent to the one that housed the raging bull, carrying out on interrogation on an unfortunate soldier of the hostile force they were lucky to have captured.

They used a handful of tricks to get information out of the soldier but he was as immovable as the barren mountains of the Second Kingdom where his old home was located. He ordered a new method to be used, a water trickle torture shared by a friendly lady from the Sixth Kingdom he tumbled in bed with a fortnight ago.

The bound man, immobilized on a wooden bed as cold drops of water trickled to his forehead irregularly, was slowly growing mad.

This delicate form of torture was better than the others, he thought. Extreme pain would only make the soldier say anything and it was not just anything they desired from him. He hoped, no, _knew_, that with the sanity went the walls of his mind. They can then easily convince him of anything, that he was dreaming perhaps, as they plundered the secrets from his weakened mind. The man was already calling out names in his short slumbers when the water did not fall to his smooth forehead.

The man was nearly broken, and just as well because the Chancellor's patience was waning.

Seneca already knew the location of the hostile force's origins, a frigid wasteland far to the north of the dispirited Eighth Kingdom. They acquired the location from another unfortunate soldier they captured, tortured, and disposed of. He had sent missions to the land to gather information but none came back successful. Sometimes the soldiers would all be dead in the ship save for its Captain who had enough life to steer the ship back, or sometimes none would return at all.

They were now torturing this broken man for an unguarded location where his next mission could dock at safely.

The soldier was muttering now and he motioned to Lord Hawthorne, a recent volunteer, to listen in.

Many things hung on the success of this mission, apart from his head.

Their plans that he, the Chancellor, and Minister Heavensbee devised had been secure, and it would have played out magnificently, easily for them had the hostile force not attacked. Now their plans were expanding in all directions while they scrambled to maintain dominance over the other kingdoms.

As Lord Hawthorne listened in on the maddened soldier's whispers, Seneca Crane thought back to all his actions that led him to this, to torturing people in a dank chamber in service of the nation's most powerful man.

He was a half noble by nature; his witless lady mother had begotten him by being impregnated by a man beneath her stature. He was not only a bastard but also a man who belonged to no rank. His mother's family disowned him and his father's family offered no comforts.

When both his parents died in the worst plague that hit the Second Kingdom, Seneca Crane was forced to live outside the solace of a home, whether in the shelter of the woods or in an abandoned stable, he jumped abodes almost every day. In the dirty streets, he pawned the garbage for food, or hunted the rats that frolicked the roads if the pain in his stomach was unbearable. As he grew from a child to an adult, he observed the politics of animals, of men. From merchants to soldiers to knights to vassals, they all had their ways and he learned them, used them to get the attention of King Centaurus's mighty cousin, Chancellor Coriolanus Snow. He was first a squire to Chancellor Snow, then he was assigned to tend to the accounts and books. Then came the dealings with the underground until the Chancellor brought him to the Capitol where he met an almost equal in Minister Heavensbee.

His light burned bright in the Capitol but everything he worked for, everything he sacrificed his sleep for, was threatened by the outcome of this mission. It was with urgency that he dealt with this matter.

Lord Hawthorne got up from kneeling towards the face of the muttering man, walked towards him, and informed him of a safe place where the ship could dock in the frigid lands.

Seneca Crane felt a momentary relief.

He could finally get this over with so he could shift his attention to the coming quell.

But there was one more matter to attend to, he remembered, now that Lord Hawthorne was here. His ears heard the curious murmurs of an event in the Twelfth Kingdom, a stirring among its people inspired by old governesses's stories. He had no time for children's tales, but it was his duty to know everything about Panem and in turn report it to the Chancellor.

He ordered Lord Hawthorne to kill the maddened soldier. He was of no use to them anymore now that his secret had been known.

As the soldier's begrimed tunic bloomed with his blood, he called for Lord Hawthorne to accompany him as they climbed the stairs and made their way out of the chamber.

"There had been curious whispers Lord Hawthorne, from the Twelfth Kingdom, about an old legend and its purported signs that had gotten your people excited. Tell me, what truth is there to it?"

They had reached the top of the stairs so that when he turned back with calculating eyes to Lord Hawthorne, the light was full on the young noble's face from the opened door and glinted at his golden buttons.

"Why yes, Minister Crane, there is such a children's tale. It's called the Legend of the Mockingjay. It's an old story about a legendary being from another world bringing peace to the land. I have heard several versions of it as a child and now that the supposed signs have appeared from the moon, the comet, and a strange aurora, I'll wager that numerous men, women, and children are purporting to be the Mockingjay. There were droves of them in the palace before I left," the young noble replied smoothly.

If Lord Hawthorne was keeping something from him, he was very good at it, Seneca Crane thought. This boy might be of great use to him here in the Capitol. But he did not reach his position believing one person. He was adept at finding the rats who would squeal a narrative to him.

"Very well. Another ship is sailing for the hostile force's territory. Lead the exploration. Search the land but stay not too long, no more than a day or two, then report back to me."

He turned and left the young noble. Seneca Crane walked, his boots loud against the marble floors, towards the chambers of Minister Heavensbee with haste.

They had rats to hunt.

* * *

He gasped for air again, breaking through the water's surface, and the sun had passed the horizon long ago.

Prince Peeta wiped the water from his eyes and face, feeling the waves push back at him. He gulped in more air. He turned his back from the bleeding sky and walked to the shore. His clothes hung heavy as they dripped. His face betrayed none of the emotions he felt earlier. He had already mourned the boy in him that the sword killed along with Cicero.

When he reached their tent, he changed out of his wet clothes and checked on Katniss, who was asleep on her bed. Food was laid out on the table in the common area but he could not eat dinner, not when he can still taste blood, so he went back out, strolled through the camp to check that everything's in order, and that they can leave at a moment's notice. He made sure to tell the Captain that the remaining possessions of the dead be classified and ready to ship when he finished the letters.

He went back to the beach. He sat on a large rock by the shore, beside a smaller pyre, and sat there looking at the waves and at a distant island. The brightness of the moon drowned the light of the other stars. He thought of the names of the dead, memorized them, and composed in his mind the words he would write later. The task was arduous and he had better start soon. He stood up and walked back to the tent.

Once inside, he saw that the table of food had been cleared. He sat down at the corner devoted to his study. He gathered the sheaf of papers, the inkwell, his pen, and lighted a lamp. He laid his forehead on his hands when he did not know where to begin, which family to address first, or whether he should write a separate letter to each family or make them all the same with just the addressees changed.

Then he heard a low moan from Katniss's quarters. He did not think any of it at first and shifted his attention back to the letters. But when he heard the erratic twisting of sheets, he stood up from his chair and went to her side.

Katniss was pale and sweating and thrashing.

"Katniss," he tried to wake her. She remained lost in her sleep.

"Katniss wake up," he sat beside her in the bed.

Her thrashing continued and when he checked her temperature, he flipped his hand back from the heat on her skin.

He stood up and ran to the guard stationed by the entrance to fetch the healer and went back to Katniss.

She was gripping the sheets now and moaning, her face scrunched in anguish. He tried shaking her and she opened her eyes. Her expression was glassy and it scared Peeta. He could tell that she was not seeing him. What was happening to her?

The healer arrived, carrying his wooden chest of vials, and laid it on the table beside the bed. He opened it and rummaged until he found a small clear one. He moistened a cloth with a strong-smelling spirit and held it near Katniss's nose.

She stopped twisting and her hands relaxed after a few minutes.

The healer mixed together five vials of different colors, decanting them to a bigger one, swirling the contents inside, and calling Katniss's name.

Katniss opened her eyes again, though her expression was one of uncertainty. The healer coaxed the girl into drinking the liquid he prepared. She sank back to her pillows and into another round of unsettled sleep but the violent thrashing was gone.

They were both watching Katniss's erratic breathing when the healer spoke.

"May I speak freely, my Prince?"

He nodded.

"I heard from the surviving guards about what happened on the island."

Peeta looked at Katniss's mouth, straightened grimly.

"If it is true, that the sirens did this to her, then we can do nothing to help. She must ride out their curse alone."

Peeta turned his gaze on the healer.

"How did you come to know of the sirens?"

"As a healer, my Prince, I have had to study a great many deal to arrive at the knowledge I have," the healer said as he rearranged the vials on his wooden chest.

"I did not scoff at any branch of knowledge, including our kingdom's veritable chest of superstitions. My grandmother always warned me that there are trees never to be cut, flowers never to be picked, and animals never to be harmed. They are guarded and sacred to other beings. Just because they have receded from our consciousness does not make them any less real."

Peeta exhaled a heavy breath. He busied himself by pulling the duvet up to Katniss's shoulders before turning back to the healer.

"Thank you for helping her."

"It is my duty, Your Highness. I shall return in the morning with another remedy, but I need to consult my books first. Good eventide, my Prince." The healer bowed.

Peeta nodded his head to return the greeting as the healer took his leave.

When he looked at Katniss again, her face was still in pain, the light of the bedside lamp casted shadows on her furrowed face.

She was moaning softly.

He sat on the bed beside her, wiping a tear that slid from her left eye. Her face was different. It held no traces of her playful smile or that wry crease on her cheek he had come to adore. They were etched in a grimace he did not know how to get rid of.

She eventually slid further into a deeper slumber. He stood up to retrieve his papers, ink, and pen and moved a table and chair by her bedside. He sat and composed the letters carefully, silently providing a companionship he wished eased her nightmares.

* * *

Katniss knew she opened her eyes into a nightmare. There was that feeling of consciousness and hyperawareness one felt when in a dream. But she knew this was not a pleasant dream, not like the ones she would wake up with a smile from as a child and eagerly tell her parents about it over breakfast.

She was back on the island's gloomy woods, the leaves as still as before but colorless in the dark. Only the moon's light provided the shadows. She touched the chapped bark of a tree to steady her as she walked in the dark. She took a step on the soft earth, then another one. Every step she took elicited a fear in her that another hellish hound would attack her from an unknown direction. Every sharp breath delivered a smell of festering flesh, like the stench of the fish market her mother once brought her to.

Then a faint sound reached her ears.

Katniss stopped. She felt the hair rising at the back of her neck.

The sound was not comforting like a lullaby but jarring like corroded metal being torn. It pulled her unwillingly to its origin. As she neared it, as the sounds progressed in volume, she felt a heat as if she was nearing an enormous flame. Voices joined the sound, the same cruel ones that demanded a life be taken by her hands.

She knew those voices all too well. She silently wished for a way out of this dream.

Katniss reached the edge of the woods and she recognized the lagoon. But the hut was absent and in its place was a platform with a roaring fire, casting the beings surrounding it in a sinister red light.

And she saw them.

Around the lagoon were hundreds of wailing sirens.

They were not the mermaid creatures she imagined. They looked like women, with yellowed skin as smooth as a newborn but sagged and folded in their neck and the joints of their elbows and knees. Their limbs bore black markings in patterns that only they understood. The sirens had no hair on their heads and only holes for noses. They had no eyes. As they sang their lament, their mouths revealed tiny pointed teeth protruding from bloody gums. The grating sound she heard with their wails came from the pointed, blackened tips of their fingers as they scratched it feverishly against their domed heads in anguish.

They all stopped and turned to Katniss.

Katniss wanted to turn back and run away but one of them spoke to halt her movements and she was frozen. That siren approached her. She was graceful in her walk despite the tremble of the loose skin that disgusted Katniss. She stopped in front of Katniss and lifted a long bony finger and pointed at Katniss's chest. Katniss did not want to look at her disfigured face. Her heart beat loudly. When the siren spoke, it came in echoes from her bloodied mouth.

"_There is only one way out Mockingjay. You have to pass us and hear our cries as the price for taking something sacred to us."_

As she spoke, the deformed sirens slowly walked into the lagoon to form a line through the path Katniss would have to traverse to go to the other side. The siren that spoke to her held out a hand for her to take.

She had no choice but to obey.

The siren's hand closed around her in a vice-like grip and the other sirens stirred with excitement over their appeasement and her suffering. They made hissing noises as their sister guided Katniss towards the lagoon that now seemed bigger and endless.

Katniss took the first step into the water. It was hot on her feet and when she looked down, it was red and as heated as the blood of the guard that pooled on her feet before. It smelled like it too, a metallic tang she can taste at the back of her throat. It moved and stained as it lapped against her bare feet.

She wanted to vomit when she realized what it really was.

Katniss closed her eyes and willed another step forward lest the siren drag her face first into the bloody lagoon.

She took in a strangled breath as she moved another foot forward. When she looked up again, the sirens had resumed their tearing motions on their head and their screeching song.

The grip of the siren beside her was painful. They walked slowly and the blood in the lagoon was up to her thighs now. They were halfway through, just past the platform that held the fire when other noises joined the horrible song. It was a whisper at first then it increased in volume. She knew what they were saying.

They were hissing her name.

The sirens she passed spat it out, chanted it, and it mixed with the wails she had yet to endure.

Katniss wanted to run, or wake up, or at least take bigger steps or a faster pace, but the siren beside her dictated her gait.

It was a slow, torturous walk and she was aware of how the blood steadily inched up to her waist. The siren beside her dug further into her wrist. The smell of decay and tangy metal was too much. The agonizing sounds seared past her ears and branded her mind.

They were nearing the other side but the blood only got deeper. Then the siren beside her stopped, turned to her, gripped Katniss's head with her claws, and then pushed her down into the blood.

* * *

It was the second straight night that she slept, sometimes thrashing, sometimes frightfully still, sometimes muttering and grimacing. Peeta had taken to camping out on Katniss's sleeping quarters, having dragged his mattress over as well apart from his table and chair so he could keep her company. He liked to think that she preferred that, for she was less restless when he worked here.

Peeta was writing the last half of the letters to the fallen men's family. He was careful with his words and he made sure to write an outstanding opinion of the dead soldier, when Katniss finally stirred.

He closed the inkwell and set the pen down.

"Katniss," he called to her. He repeated her name to see if she would respond.

Peeta called her name several times before he sat by her bed. He felt isolated. He missed talking to her. He missed her shy smiles and her scowls all the same. He missed teasing her and making her blush. But he harbored a secret fear that she would be too different after what they went through, that she would no longer laugh as freely or exert a bite in her sarcastic remarks.

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, hoping to wake her sooner. If the healer was right, then she would now be free of the sirens's curse.

She gasped and awoke with a jolt.

Katniss cried out mournfully, her pain whipping at him.

Her eyes were full of fear when they opened and he squeezed her hand gently in response. She swiped it from his grip, as if his hand were blazing.

"Katniss," he hushed in a kind tone.

"It's me, Peeta. You're safe. It's ok," he reached out to touch the side of her face, hoping the gesture would calm her and help her distinguish reality from her nightmares. Her fever was gone, he noted. But she was panting as though she swam from the cursed island and into the camp.

She looked at him like he was going to attack her. She recoiled from his touch and rolled hastily to the other side of the bed with her back against the board.

Peeta stayed where he was to not upset her further. He looked into her eyes, wild and frantic, and took in her heaving breaths. His eyes never left hers as he tried to calm her down.

Her panting slowed and her eyes focused on his but she did not seem to recognize him.

"Katniss?"

Her face crumpled and tears fell. She clamped her eyes shut. Her hands went to the side of her head and she drew her knees in and began to rock, whispering her sorrow to her folded limbs.

Peeta stood up and walked to the other side of the bed and gingerly sat down in front of Katniss.

It was painful to see her this way, trembling in despair, unable to dispel the phantoms in her dreams.

Her hair was in disarray over sleep and she was saying things to herself while clutching her head and pulling her hair. It reminded him of the first time he saw her in the palace gardens so long ago when she disturbed his quiet afternoon.

Peeta covered her hands with his and gently pried it from her scalp, noting her strength with alarm. But he was happy that she allowed him. It was progress.

Then he cupped her face with his hands and gently stroked her cheek, smiling sadly as he whispered soothing words, the way his mother would when he and his brothers would wake from a terrible dream. Katniss looked like a frightened child.

When she stopped crying, he encircled her trembling body with his arms and pulled her up to him, tucking her head under his chin. Her face rested on his chest, her legs dangled off the bed.

Katniss whimpered, and when he looked down, her face was scrunched again.

She began to cry once more and he held her.

* * *

The moment came when her eyes felt sore and she was sure her nose was swollen and the tears were reduced to quiet, random hiccups. Her fingers played with the Prince's shirt. She could smell his skin. Her breathing evened out.

The hateful sirens were real, even if she only met them in a nightmare.

The first time she was pushed down into the blood, down into that revoltingly warm liquid by the siren who walked with her, she felt a fear knife her chest. She feared for her life.

But down there was nothing. It was also a break from the torturous melody.

Maybe, she thought, this was when she would wake up.

She was mistaken.

The siren brought her up again. She glimpsed the shiny moon, all alone in the sky, as she gasped for breath, tasting and sputtering out the blood. All too soon the claws brought her down again into the dense nothingness, but this time she fought and thrashed with all her strength until the siren brought her up and she saw the sagging folds at its neck. She gripped the slimy hands, twisted herself free from the terrifying grasp, and swam away.

Katniss moved painfully slow through the blood, as though it congealed around her, and the edge of the lagoon still looked far. But she swam and swam, kicked the hardest she ever did since her father taught her to swim summers ago. Her arms were heavy as it pushed but she willed them to continue. She did not look back to see if the sirens chased her.

Katniss reached the shore and she crawled out of the lagoon slowly and exhausted. Her desperation to escape blocked out everything and it was only now that she noted the absence of the horrible song. She looked back and the lagoon was empty, dark, and still. She coughed out the blood she ingested and spat it out on the rocks.

She struggled to stand upright and trudged back into the thicket, the cold air a welcome change from the hellish lagoon. She swept back her hair from her forehead. They were heavy and tangled and blood dripped from the thinning strands. The blood covered her and she felt like it seeped into her pores. Her legs were exhausted from the effort and she barely walked straight, her hands reaching out to the dark, thin trunks for support as she walked as far as possible from the lagoon.

But her feet still followed the rhythm of the sirens's malevolent chants of her name. Her body still moved to it like an internal clock and it echoed in her head. Defeated, she slumped down against a rough trunk, rocking herself, holding her hands to her ears, but it was futile. The sirens's song had seared and embedded itself into her mind, and it was the cruelest punishment to hear them and be reminded of their fury and the price she paid for their appeasement.

Katniss sat there, alone, under the moon in this dead forest for a long time until she heard a different, gentler tone calling her name. She closed her eyes. If this was another ruse, another test, she did not have the strength to fight anymore.

It called her again.

She shut her eyes forcefully and concentrated on the voice. It was familiar.

It was Peeta's.

She cried when she realized there was hope to leaving this island. She willed her mind to go towards it, to leave this wretched island and go back to the source of the gentle voice.

Peeta called her once more.

His voice soothed her and she swam again, but this time it was her mind pushing aside the nightmare as she pictured his face, her bed, and their tent.

Then the voice stopped, the darkness receded, and she saw him, one side of his face illuminated by the faint candles and the rhythmic sound of the waves replaced the chants of the sirens.

Then, unbelievably, she was in the tent. Still, she could not shake off the fear that came with the relief. Her mind thought the nightmare was not over and if she drew back the flaps of the tent the sirens would be waiting for her again. But Peeta's presence dispelled the dark thoughts as he called to her patiently.

And when she was wrapped in him, she expelled all the anguish, the helplessness, and the terror that felt like an anvil on her chest.

Now she was toying with his shirt and he was running a hand through her hair absentmindedly. She felt slowly like herself again. She felt the grime of the blood in her nightmare slipping from her.

Katniss knew, in a fit of wry thought, that she looked hideous, with her puffy face and uncombed hair, but it did not concern her much now.

It was still dark and the candles were still burning. She looked around her quarters and wondered when a mattress and a table became her bed's neighbors.

She slowly retracted from Peeta and looked up at him. She missed the languid rhythm of his hand on her head. He smiled down at her and spoke,

"You should try and get some more rest Katniss. You had a burning fever the other day. Which reminds me,"

Katniss followed him with her eyes as Peeta stood up, walked around her bed towards his table, and procured a small vial filled with red liquid.

He sat down beside her again.

"The healer said you needed to drink this."

The liquid reminded her of the blood in the lagoon. She shuddered.

"What would happen if I didn't drink it?"

"I do not know. But please, if it's for your health, it should not be ignored."

He opened the stopper and inhaled.

"If it's any consolation, it smells like my favorite fruit," he added with a small smile.

Katniss took the vial and drank it upon seeing Peeta's imploring face.

It tasted sweet, like the medicine her mother used to give her as a child; thick and syrupy, it glided down to her stomach.

She looked down on the empty vial in her hand.

"How are you feeling?" Peeta asked.

"I don't know. Fine, I guess? Heavy, drained, I can't say."

Katniss looked back at Peeta's face. There was something different now, the furrow between his brows creased deeper when he tried to figure out what she said, his body looked more strung with tension, and he also looked drained.

"Did I disturb you?" Katniss asked, glancing at the sheaf of papers on his desk.

Peeta shook his head.

"What were you writing?"

"Letters to the families of the dead soldiers." Katniss noticed the flat tone Peeta used.

When Katniss didn't speak, Peeta sighed.

"You should get some more rest Katniss. I'll stay here if you would like me to."

"Is that why your mattress is here?"

Peeta laughed a little and sheepishly scratched his head.

"You seemed to sleep better if someone was here with you so I surmised you would not have minded."

Katniss nodded her head. She felt drowsy already. She wondered what was in that medicine. The unexpected and rapid effect of the medicine alarmed her and she realized she did not want to sleep, not if the sirens waited for her again.

She felt the stirrings of hysteria bubbling in her chest, sudden and suffocating. She fought the sleepiness trying to overcome her. Peeta noticed her change in breathing.

"What's wrong, Katniss?"

"I don't want to go back to sleep. If I dream, I'll see them again."

"Who will you see Katniss?" And Peeta reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. His hand moved down to her cheek.

"The sirens," she whispered like a frightened child. She was gasping again, the deepness of her breaths eluding her.

Peeta looked sadly at her and murmured soothingly.

"I won't leave you, Katniss. It will be fine. I shall wake you if you have another nightmare. Please do not fight the medicine. You need to rest."

Then Peeta stood up to arrange her pillows and the duvet. He slowly guided her head to the pillow.

Her lids grew heavy but she was still fighting the sleepiness. It was futile. Her actions slowed. It took too much to even lift her arm.

Peeta sat by her side and watched her. Then the medicine took over her.

The last thing she saw was his blue eyes.

* * *

Katniss woke from her drugged slumber. It felt like only a few moments of sleep and she did not feel rested. Her head felt heavy. She remembered waking up a few times but the medicine pulled her back and forced her to close her eyes.

She got up from her bed and looked to the other side to see if Peeta was still sleeping.

His mattress was empty. His table, however, was missing.

She got up from the bed and stretched. Her muscles felt brittle and she shook her limbs to bring life back to them.

She padded softly to the flap of her sleeping quarters, her feet tickled by the furry carpet, and peeked her head out. She saw Peeta, huddled over his study again. His aura changed, she thought, as she observed him more. There was mournfulness in his movements. Katniss jumped when he suddenly turned towards her.

He blinked his eyes as if unbelieving that she was there. The pause was awkward before he spoke.

"Good morrow, my lady." His smile was strained but his eyes were sincere.

"Good morning." Her eyes traveled to the table of food on the other side of the room.

"I had our food brought over. I assumed you would be more comfortable to break your fast here than in the company of others, for now."

"Thank you." She studied his appearance. There were shadows under his eyes. She cocked her head to the side and asked,

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Yes, I did, but only for a couple of hours. I've had too few hours of slumber these past nights."

They were stiltedly speaking again. It hurt. But Katniss pressed on.

"You don't look very well. Perhaps you need some of that red vial too. It gave me a dreamless sleep, if that's what you seek."

Peeta smiled. "Thank you for your concern, my lady. But my priority is not my health but yours. Do you feel better now?"

Katniss nodded softly.

Peeta stood up abruptly.

"I shall call for your chambermaid to assist you. When you're dressed, we shall break our fast."

Without another word, the Prince walked and swept the flaps aside.

His distant behavior puzzled Katniss. Where was the Prince who wrapped her warmly in his arms? Admittedly, she was surprised by such an emboldened act from Peeta but found that she did not mind. There were too few comforts in this strange realm and she did not want to be plucked from the one that consoled her best.

Peeta did not return when the maid entered and she thought it for the better.

The female servant helped her out of her sweaty nightclothes and brought her to the small, adjacent quarter where a tub of hot water waited for her. The maid waited by the entrance as Katniss slunk down on the water that eased the knots on her back. The only thing on her naked body was the locket and the bangle. She never parted with these.

When she was done, the water was tepid, and she stepped out of the bath, the maid immediately handing her a towel and helping her dry.

She put on a simple dress and asked the maid to fetch the Prince for her.

Katniss sat on the chair by the end of breakfast table and she looked at the food served today.

Peeta entered the tent and smiled as he took his seat opposite her after asking her which foods she wanted on her plate and got them for her.

They ate in awkward silence. She heard Peeta chew the elongated, cased meats and the gulp as he drank his honeyed juice. Her own jaw ached after she realized that she had been chewing on a piece of meat for a long time and the taste had already left her tongue.

When she could not stand the silence anymore, she asked him,

"Who was he?"

Peeta looked up from lavishing his roll with a purple jam. She repeated her question.

"Who was the soldier we killed?"

Katniss heard the Prince sigh before he replied.

"Don't do this to yourself to Katniss." She did not like the look his eyes held so she pressed on, stubbornly and with more force.

"Who was he? I want to know who he was!" She clanged her knife down to her plate vehemently. The events had her on edge, mixing with the endless paranoia she felt over seeing the sirens unexpectedly anywhere, even outside her dreams.

She asked him only a simple, burning question and did not understand why he evaded it.

Peeta gave her one more measured look before he spoke.

"His name was Cicero Cross. He was a guard who knew that at any moment, his life may be in peril because of his duty. Please do not blame yourself for his death, Katniss," he finished softly, jam forgotten.

It irked Katniss that he was treating her like a fragile doll, much like he did on the ship as they made their way back.

"Stop treating me like I can break. And how can I not blame myself when I plunged, no, we plunged, the sword into his neck?"

The Prince looked at her again, but this time with mild annoyance. It mixed horribly with the dark circles under his eyes and the pallid tone of his skin. His reply scalded her.

"Well would you rather the beasts have been the one to end his life then, before they turned to rip us all apart? Hacked at our every limb—"

"Stop it."

Katniss looked down on her plate. His words affected her and when she closed her eyes, Cicero was kneeling in front of her. Her nose prickled again. She sniffled. Everything was out of her control.

She heard the scraping of a chair. When she opened her eyes, the Prince knelt in front of her. He took her hands. His eyes were softer now.

"My apologies, Katniss."

She looked into his eyes that were so piercingly blue.

Then Peeta softly whispered to her as he reached to cup her cheek.

"What we did was horrible, yes, but necessary." Katniss choked out a cry and Peeta wiped her tear with his thumb. Everything chipped at her. She felt like she was crumbling from the inside. The strikes on her mind were endless and unforgiving. Peeta pressed on,

"Cicero sacrificed himself so that we could all live. We did not take his life in cold blood, Katniss. His death had a purpose and that is what we need to accept.

"It's been very difficult for me too, and I apologize for the way I have behaved. I am truly sorry for what your duty has brought unto you"

She nodded, tears dripped down her cheeks. Peeta now held her face with both of his hands as he continued his tender words.

"I know even acceptance would not take away our guilt. There is no nobleness in taking a man's life, but we did what was needed of us."

And she broke.

Katniss cried more as Peeta stood from his crouch to wrap her again in an embrace, pulling her up to him.

She let out her disappointment at how her life turned, her fear of the sirens, the heaviness whenever she thought of the man, Cicero. And Peeta held her as she gasped for breath again. She clutched at the fabric of his tunic and felt his heart beat against her cheeks.

When she could finally speak, she looked up and asked him,

"And what about you? How have you been doing?"

Peeta smiled sadly, his chin tucking in as he looked down on her.

"I was occupied with the letters so I have not had much time to think about it."

"It doesn't overwhelm you?"

"It does, Katniss, of course. But when that happens, I take deep breaths to calm me down, just like what my mother taught me when I woke up from a nightmare."

"Can I try it?" She sniffled softly.

"Of course. Just follow me, Katniss."

And she looked away as she leaned back to his chest. The rhythm of his lungs taking in air was calming. She could not follow it at first and had to wait for her hiccups to subside. Then she took her first deep breath and timed it with Peeta's.

They stood like this for a long time. She was entranced.

Then she heard a rumble from his chest as he spoke.

"Do you think you're up for a walk, my lady? The sun is shining bright outside, the sea is calm, and they may do you good."

She stepped back and looked at Peeta. He looked less agitated too.

She nodded and let herself be led out the tent.

* * *

And the Prince was right.

The rays of the sun drove away the remnants of the sirens's tune and the gentle lap of waves against the shore centered her again. She also liked the squish of sand between her toes as she walked barefoot with Peeta.

They were seated on a large rock far to the side of the camp and she could see the tents, small in the distance to her left. Peeta was beside her. The islands dotted the sea to their north while the high, white cliffs stood proud behind their back. The distant rumblings of the retinue were also a welcome noise of live, bustling people.

"When are we setting off for the next pearl?" Katniss asked as she drew her knees closer to her chest.

Peeta turned to her, eyes, squinting at the morning sun.

"Only when you're ready, Katniss."

"But aren't we wasting time? I know we have to get the other three pearls and head back to the palace 'with haste'," she said, imitating Priestess Sae's crackly voice.

"Of course not. They would not dare give you grief over it and I shall see to that. We would only depart once you are well," the Prince said with finality.

"I think I'm ready tomorrow, Peeta. We should really get this over with."

Peeta looked at her and smirked. He tickled a soft spot on her waist.

She held her hands up in surrender. "Hey! I'm taking one for the team here!"

Just then, a Privy Gentleman interrupted their playful moment, informing the Prince that the Captain was ready to discuss the next stage of their voyage with him. Peeta nodded at the gentleman who bowed before taking his leave.

He turned to Katniss with an apology on his lips but Katniss silenced him with a smile.

"It's ok, I'll be fine here."

Peeta nodded, took her hand to kiss it, and stood up to follow his Privy Gentleman who was already far ahead.

Katniss ended up spending her day on the beach, sometimes sitting on the rock and letting the soft heat of the sun warm her, or knelt at the beach building sand castles the way she and Prim and her dad used to do when they visited their relatives.

She took walks on the beach, from the rock to the camp to the other side of the cove and then back to the rock again. Sometimes she watched the tiny crabs scurry along the sands before the foamy water swept them away. She built bigger and bigger sand castles as the day progressed. She found it easy to occupy herself and her muscles began to loosen up as well. Her head felt lighter.

Before she went back to the tent for dinner, she walked directly on the water, warm from being touched by the sun all day. Then she huffed in consternation when the sand clumped around her bare feet and she had to shake them all off before entering the tent.

That night, after they dined, Katniss dreaded going to sleep. Now that the healer pronounced her well and that she could go on without his medicine, she was anxious over what she would see that night. She barely spoke over dinner, preferring to hear Peeta's voice more than her own to see if it mitigated that familiar heavy feeling.

When they were readying for bed, Peeta's mattress gone from her quarters, Katniss felt an irrational fear bubbling up inside her. She never wanted to see the sirens again but if they deemed her penance the other night insufficient, she could not stop them from repeating their song.

It also made her think of the next pearl. If this is what it took to get one, she dreaded what she would have to do next.

Katniss was thinking too hard and pacing the rug by her bed that she did not notice Peeta by the flap as he called to her.

"What's the matter, Katniss?" Peeta walked up to her, concerned, and held her by the shoulders.

"I never told you about my nightmare, have I?"

Peeta shook his head. "The healer mentioned that you needed to ride out a curse from the sirens though. What happened?"

"I saw them in my dreams. I heard them again. They were horrible. And felt like I would not leave that place. But you called me and I woke up and I was so relieved," and she let out a strangled gasp. She hated feeling like a small child but her fears ripped at her sanity, especially now that it was dark once again, just like it had been in the lagoon.

Katniss looked at Peeta, whose eyes shone soft as he watched at her carefully. She did not want to be by herself. The thought of being alone and riddled with her nightmares prompted her to say what she said next.

"Will you stay with me?"

Peeta furrowed his brows in confusion.

"I mean nothing untoward, I just need someone with me again. I don't want to be alone if my nightmares come." Her voice trailed into silence. She looked down to her feet.

Peeta raised her chin.

"Shall I camp again?"

Katniss softly shook her head.

Peeta nodded in understanding. "I'll be with you shortly then."

And he left her standing by the foot of her bed.

Katniss turned towards her pillows, pulled the covers, and settled in.

Peeta came in and sat by the bed. Katniss moved so she lay on her side as she faced the Prince on the opposite side. Peeta moved his legs up and sat with his back by the headboard. He moved closer to Katniss.

He looked down at her and wiped some strands of hair off her face as she continued to peek at him from behind her sleepy eyes.

"Are you comfortable, Katniss?"

She nodded, before adding,

"Tongues will be wagging though if they knew."

"Oh it is of no use to mind them," he said as he gently stroked her hair.

Katniss stared at the dark fabric of his sleep pants, loose and rough. Her gaze roved to the candles burning nearby and she felt her breathing relaxing. His warm presence pacified her.

Peeta's ministrations slowly lulled her to sleep. She thought she heard him hum a tune and was about to tease him about it but she slumbered too soon.

* * *

Lord Hawthorne was wrapped thickly as he looked at the empty vastness ahead.

They had been sailing for too many days that he lost count, and the air bit harder in frost as the mornings blurred into the afternoons and the evenings gave way to the dawn without much fanfare.

He was unaccustomed to the frigid weather. He could see the breaths he expelled forming a cloud by his chin.

The gray seas and the unforgiving frost had been their companion for days as they sailed towards the safe point the soldier he killed referred to. Most of his men were huddled under the deck of the ship, exchanging stories from their different kingdoms.

He opened a flask of liquor and swallowed the liquid thickly to warm him.

Minister Crane was kind enough to send them with a lot of provisions. At least they had sustenance and need not have to fish in this weather. Perhaps the spilled secrets from their informant buoyed his spirits.

Gale pulled his fur-lined coat more snuggly against him after he tucked the bottle in the inside pocket.

He heard the men's laughter from below. Some were noblemen, like him, others were vassals of vassals, and some were soldiers. Their lively discussions helped to distract them from the reality of the mission they embarked for. They knew all too well the fate of the ships that sailed before them.

After a few hours, he went below the deck and ordered the men to prepare their weapons as the ship slowed towards their safe dock.

Minister Crane had ordered them to be there for no more than a day and they had to move swiftly. According to the soldier, there was a small town near the place they would dock and that was where they were to observe the enemy.

The men gasped when they reached the deck as giant glaciers greeted them, walls of ice towering over their ship's mast. As if to welcome them, it began to snow.

They docked on a sheltered bay and had to traverse the dense forest before reaching the outskirts of the town.

They walked along the edge of the forest, where a fissure in the ground led to a raging river. The sounds of the river, thankfully, masked their noise.

They slowed when the forest cleared.

Up ahead were the town's structures.

They were instructed to observe, gather information, and if they were fortunate, capture another informant.

The town looked miserable and quiet.

He ordered the men to walk the perimeter and observe.

But the inhabitants, the women and children in particular as they hardly saw men around, were perhaps a little too thin than what he had in mind. Compared to the villages and duchies back at the Twelfth Kingdom, the town was laxly guarded and sparsely populated.

The people moved slowly about their lives. There were no children playing. They were all working. The windows he passed were grimy. Some were broken. Black smoke rose from the thin chimneys crookedly spouting from their tiled roofs.

When the other men gathered an hour later, they all shared similar doleful descriptions of the village: hunched old women and sad-faced children. What they saw was unbelievably wretched that it surely could not have produced the fierce and hostile force that had been haunting Panem's kingdoms. It was perplexing.

They all huddled around a fire deep in the forest to avoid detection from the villagers.

Gale had set up snares near their campsite in case an animal wandered by. It had been too long since their last taste of meat.

But when one of his snares snapped and he ran towards the cry, he noticed it was not the yelp of an animal. He reached the site of the snare and he looked up to see an old man dangling from his foot. He looked frightened, like prey.

Gale felt pity for the man who was now to be their prisoner. Now that they had a new captive, they had to leave as their mission was complete. They could not risk detection.

He loosened the rope and the man fell down in a heap. Gale helped him to his feet. His cheeks were gaunt and he felt light. His peppered hair flowed down in ragged edges to his shoulders. There were holes in his coat and gloves.

Gale felt sick as he bound the helpless man's hands together behind his back. The man offered no resistance and it added to Gale's mounting feeling of disgust. They walked towards the camp so he can round the men and they can head for home.

And they will lead this prisoner to his first trip on a ship and his last days of life.

They will lead him to the dank, torturous chambers of Minister Crane.

* * *

Since he slept sitting up, and now that he was awake, he could feel a crick between his left shoulder and his neck where his head nodded to his side.

The sound of the waves woke him more, as well as the muted brightness of the tent.

Peeta felt an arm draped across his waist and the faint sound of breathing was in tune with his own.

He opened his eyes and stared at Katniss's sleeping form. She was curled up, her right hand near her slightly opened mouth and her left arm extended to his other side.

Her face looked relaxed in sleep, unlike the contorted expression she wore the other night. It amused him that she was not shivering despite the duvet on her side being wrinkled near her leg. Her sleeping gown was also bunched and revealed the smooth skin on the back of her thigh.

Peeta shook these thoughts as he stretched his arms up, yawned, and leaned back to the pillows he propped up the night before.

He looked at Katniss again.

She did not thrash last night. He was hopeful in the anticipation that she did not have a nightmare.

He decided to not wake Katniss up and let her sleep some more. Today was their last day to rest and they would return to the expedition tomorrow since Katniss insisted on that over dinner. He turned to his right to fetch the book he was reading by the dying lamp last night. It was a small, old book he took on loan from the vaults detailing the history of his kingdom and of Panem.

He was finishing up on the chapter about Queen Lisandra's uneventful turn as Queen Regent when Katniss stirred.

Peeta watched her exhale deeply as she opened her lids that were still heavy with sleep. He observed her puzzlement with enjoyment as her sleepy mind tried to guess why someone was in bed with her.

Then she blinked drowsily up at him and he smiled.

"Good morrow, my lady," he softly intoned. He stroked some strands off her nose.

"Good morning, Peeta." She mumbled gravelly. She snuggled in closer to his side but pulled the arm that was draped across his stomach. Katniss fell asleep again, he noted amusedly, as her breathing evened out against the back of the hand that was near her face.

He continued reading the book, finishing two chapters, until Katniss moved again.

She turned on her back and huffed a breath out, her eyes bereft of sleep. She slowly sat up and turned to him.

"No nightmares?" he asked.

She shook her head.

When she shivered in the morning cold, he held out an arm out to her and she lazily dove into it, curling up to his side again, and rested her head by his shoulder.

He wondered wryly where the girl who was bent on being given her own tent the night they arrived went.

Peeta did not voice his thoughts aloud, lest she shove him away in embarrassment.

"What are you reading?"

"An account of the history of Panem."

"How boring," and she yawned to prove her point.

"I am merely searching for references to the Dynasty of the Warring Kings. Perhaps the legend was mentioned somewhere in the annals of history. It would never hurt to learn more, Katniss."

She closed the book on his hand to look at the title on the leather casing. The papers inside were yellowed and brittle and the type on the pages were softly faded.

"So how did it start, this dynasty of war freak kings?"

Peeta chuckled.

"Unfortunately, no one is quite certain anymore. The war lasted for nine hundred years, which would make the beginning of it almost four thousand years ago. Some say the stronger dukes had started conquering the weaker lords and fashioning themselves as kings. Then the kings started to wage war on one another—"

"Until your King Petrarch brought them all together, yeah, yeah, yeah that part I remembered from Priestess Sae."

Peeta smiled at her sardonic response.

"Are you hungry, my lady? Would you like to break your fast now?"

She detached herself from him and stretched to reach her toes. Then she turned her head and nodded.

Peeta stood up from the bed, raised the flap, and walked to the shared area. The breakfast table was already laid there.

He swiveled back and peeked his head through the flap to call on Katniss. She slowly stood from the bed and walked towards him. He was quite excited for breakfast because they would have the sunfruits he was so fond of and he could not wait to make Katniss taste them.

Peeta pulled her chair as she sat and asked her what she wanted from the fare. He added the sunfruit on her plate. He sat beside her today.

"What's this?" Katniss asked, pointing to the yellow slice of the sunfruit.

"It's my favorite fruit, Katniss." And her eyes perked up as she took a bite and chewed.

"It's quite tart, and sweet, at the same time. And fibrous too. You have weird tastes."

Peeta pretended to look peeved and Katniss laughed at his expression.

He realized he missed her easy laughter. He was thankful that the exuberant girl was slowly coming back to him.

After their meal, Katniss asked if they could walk to the beach again.

They spent most of the morning and the early afternoon playing by the shore, splashing water on one another, building castles in the sand, and then destroying the other's in earnest. But after their midday meal, Peeta had to leave Katniss to soak in the sun alone as he trudged back to the tent, remembering unhappily the letters he had to finish.

It put a dent to his growing easiness and pulled him back to a dismal mood.

He sat in his study once more, head bowed heavily over the papers and stiff envelopes. Sometimes he scratched off letters, wasting three sheets of paper, before finally being marginally satisfied with what he wrote. It never seemed sincere enough or comforting enough and the balance eluded him.

But he wrote and wrote, until the late afternoon sun cloaked the tent in a golden light. He sealed the last envelope with the melted red wax and stamped his family's coat of arms.

By dinner, his mood improved only slightly as he fetched Katniss from the beach. She sat on the rock again as she watched the waves, lost in her thought.

They dined with the guards tonight outside the tent. Peeta made sure to keep the wine away from Katniss and asked one of the servants for some water instead. Katniss had more appetite, actually finishing the plate of food he served as opposed to nibbling on portions as she had done for the past days.

When they went back to the tent, after they dressed and got ready for bed, Katniss approached him in the common area where he was stacking the envelopes to be sent out on horse the following day.

She looked abashed about something, and to save her the discomfort of asking, he told her that he would be with her soon.

Katniss smiled shyly as she retreated back to her quarters and he handed over the envelopes to the guard on duty by the entrance, to be sent to the Captain's tent.

When Peeta went inside her sleeping quarters, Katniss was already lying in bed and curled to her side once more.

He climbed in on the same side he slept on last night and rested his back on the pillows, preferring to sleep while sitting so as not to overwhelm the girl.

That night he slept fitfully, goaded by his earlier anxiety. He dreamt of the dead men and their blank stares. In his dream they took the envelopes from him with their cold hands and delivered them to their families themselves, staining the creamy paper with dirt and blood. The hands that reached out were endless and he was almost running out of letters.

Then the earth began to move in his dream.

He awoke suddenly and realized it was Katniss making the ruckus.

Her face was once again contorted in pain and she was thrashing her limbs wildly.

Peeta called out to her, his own nightmare still flashing through the back of his mind. He realized at that moment that they were two broken people because what they went through was so damaging. They would always be haunted and scarred by their actions, visible on their psyche like cracks on a broken vase put back together.

Katniss awoke and was crying and shivering again.

He reached out and soothed her with words he said to himself to calm down. He leaned in and stroked her cheek with utmost care. They were the only ones who could console one another.

When she was almost asleep, in a desperate attempt to ease both their terrors, he gave the last comfort he can share and the only comfort he can take from her.

Peeta kissed her softly, gently.

In it, he tasted her salty tears and the last of her pleading cries.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Eeep! I'm still shivering with delight that we're finally here.

I hope you enjoyed this relatively quiet chapter. It would make me really happy if you let me know what you think. We needed a break after the action of the last one and the upcoming one will be packed as well.

Thank you so much for reading! I also extend my endless gratitude to those who reviewed, followed, and placed this on their favorites. I always beam when I get an email :D

I apologize if I could not reply to everyone's review on time. But if you have some burning questions, you can always send me a private message if you'd like and I'll try to answer without giving too much of the story away, teehee.

Some side notes: The torture used by Seneca Crane was the Chinese Water Torture. The victims would gradually become frantic as a perceived hollow would form on their forehead where the water irregularly dropped. There's also a similar one called the Spanish Water Torture used during the Spanish Inquisition. This was similar to waterboarding but I used the former cause it sent more chills down the spine for me.

As for the next chapter, I'm already working on it. Please check my profile for the latest updates on when I will post it :D

Once again, The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.

See you soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes**

Thank you that you're still reading despite the delay! I do apologize for that. Below is a short recap of what has happened so far, as I understand the story arcs have been steadily shooting in all directions.

Recap:

After being declared as the Twelfth Kingdom's legendary Mockingjay, Katniss, aided by Prince Peeta, is tasked to find four pearls that will unlock the Mockingjay's weapon. This they do amidst unbearable trials.

Meanwhile, across Panem, the simmering political turmoil continues. Lord Haymitch and Prince Aldran travel to the Capitol for the Grand Duke to take his seat in the Council, Minister Heavensbee has been busy preparing for the quell of Chancellor Snow's enemies, Minister Crane has been fighting and gathering information about the invaders that have attacked the Eighth and Eleventh Kingdom, and Lord Hawthorne has brought back a hapless man from his mission in the hostile force's territory.

And now, on with the story! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Alternate Title: Fear is Only a Feeling, Desire is But Fleeting, and Security is an Illusion **

Before the stars took their bow and the sun pushed itself up, Katniss found herself again on that rock by the beach where she spent the day.

Daybreak was chilly and she forgot to bring her coat or one of the fur blankets from the tent. Her muscles were paying the price for her misjudgment as they trembled to keep her warm. She stared out to the dark sea, the cold air ripping a path down her lungs.

She felt like there was nothing that was constant in her life anymore, and the motion of the waves, repetitive, expected, and unvarying, gave the security she felt was torn from her. She was hurled into this strange, beautiful, and cruel world. The events left her raw and scratched, lost and shoved, cold and ragged.

And now this.

Her fingers touched her lower lip, right where Peeta's lips last touched hers before he pulled away.

Katniss had been awake before she thrashed and woke Peeta. It was that kind of dream where her mind woke before her body and she felt imprisoned and unable to move. She saw the ceiling of the tent but could not move her head to look at the Prince beside her. Her body felt alien to her, like a barrier between her and her surroundings. It was unresponsive and heavy, dense with all the fibers of her life she lost control of. Katniss tried to scream for help but she could not even open her mouth no matter the force she exerted. She was mute and unmoving. She tried to pull herself back into the darkness to sleep this off, wishing that perhaps after she wakes again, she could move.

But she could not sleep. She was still painfully aware of her immobility.

She kept on persevering, willing her limbs to move. It felt like a long time and she didn't notice when she finally did.

Amid the flailing of her limbs, she spilled tears of relief when her mind registered her motions, ending her temporary paralysis.

Despite the fear from her dream still echoing, she began to notice the things around her again, like the blonde prince caressing her face as she tried to control her ragged breathing. The look on Peeta's face was foreign, a mix of hurt and tenderness and she could not look away from those shining orbs of yearning that were his eyes. She was entranced when he slowly leaned in and kissed her. Katniss closed her eyes and savored the foreign sensation, hoping she could still do it right.

Then Peeta stopped, looking so vulnerable and broken. It unearthed an emotion in her that before he fully pulled away, she took him back to lie with her, secure in her arms, and tucked his head beneath her chin, just as he had done.

He felt warm and languid and she ran her hands through his soft hair, amazed at the sensations it elicited in her, running from the pads of her fingers and into her being. He relaxed against her.

But Katniss could not sleep anymore and soon felt restless, so she slowly extracted herself from Peeta, making sure he did not stir, and quietly walked out the tent and into the beach.

While on the rock, she replayed the scene over and over in her head, wondering what she might have done instead, if she should have kissed him back or if she should have let him pull away. Another long shiver ended her musings.

The stars twinkled feebly in the inky sky that was just being tinged with the lightest of purple. The air was still nippy and Katniss's muscles trembled involuntarily again, really bemoaning not bringing along anything to warm her. Just as she was about to stand and retrieve a blanket, she saw a bleary-eyed Peeta walk towards her, hair still tousled from sleep and her earlier ministrations.

She could not help but smile when she saw him carrying a fur blanket and she almost clawed it from him with her impatient, trembling hands before he wrapped her in it.

"You were gone when I awoke," he said as he sat beside her.

She smiled weakly and looked at him. Peeta still looked exhausted and she felt guilty for disturbing what little sleep he was able to retain. He was still waiting for her explanation for her disappearance.

Katniss tried to talk but all that came out was a chattering murmur and Peeta chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement.

"Come here, my stubborn, foolhardy lady," he said affectionately as he enfolded her.

"Really, Katniss, what were you thinking?"

Ensconced in the fur, cheek against his chest, and slowly feeling the tips of her fingers and toes come back to life, Katniss felt so comfortable that she did not reply but just laughed at her silliness. They sat there in silence, watching the sun swell from the horizon, rays slowly flaring out the nearby stars and painting the sky in varying shades of soft yellow.

Peeta spoke after a while and held her tighter.

"Do you regret what I did, Katniss?" He asked in a small voice. That vulnerability was present again, along with tones of uncertainty.

She turned her head upwards and accidentally touched the skin on his throat with the tip of her nose and he jumped from the contact.

"Gods, Katniss, the tip of your nose is icy!"

Katniss dissolved into laughter and proceeded to tickle Peeta's throat with her cold nose, enjoying making him squirm and inhaling his distinct scent. His laugh was intoxicating, more potent than the sweet wine that made her drunk, his baritone sending ripples of warmth through her as he tightened his embrace.

When they settled, he asked her again and she looked into his eyes, the lightness entrancing her once more.

"I don't know," she whispered honestly. His face fell a fraction but he saved it with a smile, though his eyes were still terse. She did not know how to react to these things and regretted not discussing anything like it with Madge. But it was no use to think of her other life now. It was too far away. She sighed and went back to resting her cheek against his chest.

"Well I don't."

That jolted her, and she pushed against his chest weakly with her palm and he looked down at her. The early morning light glided over his carelessly handsome face.

Peeta continued with a wry smile, "Granted, it was not how I planned it."

"Planned?" Katniss felt the corners of her mouth lifting slightly but she contained it.

"Surely my affections have been discernible, Katniss," he murmured huskily and swallowed. She traced his face with her eyes and felt his calloused fingertip map out her jaw. She shivered again but not from the cold.

"It will be toilsome for me to hold back from now on, but if you so wish for it to cease, a word from you is all I need."

She reacted with alarm, but he smiled knowingly and placated her.

"You need not say anything, whatever your decision may be. But until you do, my affections shall remain pure."

Katniss drank in the morning light twinkling in his eye, still looking at him with wonder at his revelation, mouth agape and unable to speak.

"I need to go back to bed, my lady. I daresay our journey later will be most exhaustive, but will you be all right?"

She nodded, still mesmerized. Peeta smiled and stood, and she watched him walk towards the camp.

And Katniss was alone again with her thoughts and they crashed into one another. She felt a giddy, numbing feeling overcome her and she pulled the blanket tighter.

A part of her was still cautious and practical and another part curious at flitting with a precarious situation, the same feeling she had when she tried to go down the drainpipe as she snuck out her house to go to Madge's party when she was grounded.

She thought of Peeta, her golden, gallant prince, and how exceedingly difficult it was to resist him. She knew there was already something in her responding to him, awakening every time she caught his shy glances at her. It furrowed deeper in her now that they were irrevocably linked by their shared actions.

But she was not of this world; a derisive voice in her head reminded her. For one desolate moment, she tried to picture what it would be like without him. To her surprise, her nose prickled, her stomach clenched, and she had to stop before she cried.

She sighed. The more she thought of this, the more her head ached, and her reasoning looped and flew in all directions. She decided to go back to the tent.

Katniss only realized how tired she was when she entered the tent and neared the flap to her sleeping quarters. She was splashed with disappointment when she did not see Peeta there in the bed, and somewhere in her a voice quipped that she knew her answer to her ponderings all along.

She turned around and padded slowly towards his side of the tent and found him, tucked to his side, exhausted, and fast asleep. She wanted to run her hands through his hair again, brush the wavy bangs that had fallen to his forehead but decided against it. Katniss walked to the bed and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek instead, feeling a heat spreading through her own cheeks at her boldness.

She moved back to her own bed and settled herself inside the fur blanket Peeta brought, relishing that it still smelled of him, and wishing that it would ward away the dark dreams.

* * *

Poring over dusty old books and scrolls with tiny prints in a moving carriage was a test to his eyes yet Prince Peeta pursued the activity. He was gathering information on their next destination, an ancient, ruined temple in the northeastern tip of the Fourth Kingdom. Despite the pain thumping furiously in his head, he persevered and checked the books he brought for any hidden warnings. They would not be blindsided again like what happened in the Lair of the Sirens.

He saw a map when he unfurled another fragile scroll. It was tied together with a book and he perused the pages impatiently for information on the ancient temple.

_The temple dedicated to the ancient deity of Teirnon, a twin-headed god of fear and desire worshipped by the Hmerian civilization, had been erected nearly six thousand years ago. Built by their Leper King for his victory over the Larthan army, it features many a detailed reliefs of the Leper King's wars and exploits. It was also the site of invocation rituals and human sacrifices the king made before he went to war._

Prince Peeta sighed. He did not like the last sentence in the paragraph he read, no matter that the temple would have been unused for thousands of years. He searched for more information but that sole paragraph had been all the book had yielded.

Their carriage was now furiously whipping past the forest lining the isthmus connecting the Twelfth and Fourth Kingdoms. The Captain said it would take them another day's journey to reach the temple and his deprivation of sleep had already cost him half of his mind's clarity. The words on the books were simply not making sense and he thought it best to pause for now and perhaps try to get some more sleep.

He glanced across the carriage where Katniss was stiffly leaning against the wall with closed eyes.

Peeta thought it amusing that she was pretending to be asleep this whole time, starting with an unconvincing yawn when they entered the carriage. He knew by now, after watching her these past nights, what she really looked like when she was actually asleep. Her mouth would be slightly open and her hands slack, unlike the stiff jaw she had now and the clenched fists.

She had been acting terse since their shared sunrise. He thought it best to let her be and sort her feelings for herself.

He cleared his throat loudly, her eyes flew open, and he sniggered at her.

"Oh apologies, my lady. Have I disturbed your slumber?"

Katniss narrowed her eyes.

"You should not be sleeping too much anyway Katniss, we are nearing the site where we would camp for the night and it is almost sunset."

She rolled her eyes, and after another yawn that was too enthusiastic, she curled towards the wall and pulled the blanket of grey and white fur to her.

Peeta glanced out the window. The forests on this part of the kingdom were not as fiery as his home's. Most were green with a disturbance of red or yellow here and there. But the evergreens gave a soothing sight to his tired eyes, and they glowed rather magnificently in the sunset. He could see the mountain ranges as well. The Fourth Kingdom was blessed with these.

The rhythmic clap of the horses's hoofs on the ground slowly relaxed him and he felt that drowsy pull. He gave in.

When his ears registered noise again after what seemed only seconds later, the sun no longer shone from out his closed lids. He rubbed his eyes slowly and yawned. The carriage had stopped. The first sight that greeted him was Katniss truly asleep and snoring softly.

Peeta did not wake her yet and went down from the carriage to check that their tent was ready before he woke her.

When he did, Katniss whimpered adorably at being disturbed, reminding him of the times when, as a child, his governess had to resort to all sorts of bribes for him to get out of bed in the morning. He bribed Katniss with the spicy, hot chocolate drink that was perfect for another chilly evening.

She refused his help when she got out the carriage and walked wobbly. He had to guide her still for she did not know where their tent was located. Once inside though, she barreled through the flap to her quarters and plopped into bed once more before he could ask what she wanted to eat for dinner. Peeta ended up dining alone and sleeping fitfully again through another nightmare.

The mornings were the time when he felt wearier than when he went to bed, thanks in part to his frequent nocturnal visitors of blank eyes and scattered bodies. Sometimes that dream would be interspersed with one where he was alone in a smoldering battlefield and he had to stab all the soldiers in front of him, all kneeling endlessly towards the horizon. Last night was a simple but potent nightmare where he washed his hands in a small stream in the forest but the stain of blood remained. Even with all the scrubbing, the blood still besmirched his hands and all the mad cleaning led to his hands's exposed muscles and bones still drenched in red.

He had no appetite upon waking, and after getting cleaned and dressed in his doublet and trousers, went to fetch Katniss but was met with an empty bed.

Peeta went out the tent and found her at the table chatting amiably with the Captain, plate filled. She would be hungry, he thought, especially since she missed dinner. He walked to the table and kissed her forehead after greeting her pleasantly. As expected, the little gesture stunned her and she scowled at him, but he kept his smile to himself as he laid food on his plate.

Soon, after the retinue had packed, they departed without delay. The Captain had found another route that would cut their journey shorter and they would arrive at the temple in the afternoon.

At least Katniss did not pretend to sleep again in the carriage because the silence was getting to a maddening point. They played a quiet game of cards to pass the time and he learned that Katniss was quite bitter in disposition when she lost, which made him even more determined to beat her so he could tease the fuming girl.

"Not fair!" Katniss huffs, after losing for the fifth time.

He chuckled triumphantly, gathering the cards from her. "Your face displays all the emotions I need to see to know when you're bluffing."

"No, you're cheating," she accused him petulantly.

"Such an excusive statement, my lady," he replied, sighing patiently, looking down as he shuffled the deck.

"I don't want to play anymore," she said, crossing her arms to her chest.

"Shall we raise the stakes to motivate you better then?"

Katniss narrowed her eyes.

He looked at her while dividing the pile. "If I win, you will give me a more definite answer to the question I asked you yesterday morning by the beach."

She squinted her eyes at him but he knew she remembered him asking her if she regretted their kiss.

"But if _I_ win, you get to tell me all your sneaky plans." She replied smugly, affirming that she did remember their conversation.

"We have forged ourselves a deal then, my lady."

And so they played, until the moment Peeta knew he had cornered Katniss and he was enjoying seeing the realization dawn on her face.

"Show me your cards Katniss," he teased and reached for her hand.

"No!" She swiped it stubbornly from him.

He laughed. "Even if you don't reveal them, I know I've won."

"It's not fair!"

Peeta set his cards aside as he leaned over her, barely inches from her face.

"Why don't we celebrate my dominance over you with a kiss? Then you can give me that sweet answer of yours," raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Katniss laughed and pushed him playfully away, looking out the window. Then the carriage slowly rolled to a stop and she turned back to him, looking pleased with herself, before speaking.

"Oh what a pity the odds are not in your favor today. I guess we'll have to have a rematch." Then she bounded out the carriage. He followed suit only after gathering the worn leather case where he kept his books and scrolls.

Once outside, Peeta watched Katniss's face fall as she took in her surroundings. The distressing events of days past had not been long turned away from their minds and he knew that the sight of another forest elicited ill memories for her. She was twisting her bangle again and adjusting her attire similar to what she wore before, a connected shirt and trousers she haughtily called a pantsuit when he once asked.

Peeta went up to her side and squeezed her hand before looking for the Captain to give his orders. Like before, only a handful of guards would accompany them and the rest would have to stay behind and set up the camp.

There was a path of brick red dust cutting through the forest, a stark contrast to the vivid greens of the leaves from the towering trees. They were so tall that even when he craned his neck, he still could not see where they ended.

Peeta unfurled a map from his case and studied it before giving it over to the Captain to lead the vanguard. Katniss was by his side as they walked in between the two sets of guards like before, the dust coating their boots.

Katniss was quiet again and he placed an arm around her, asking how she was faring. She nodded solemnly and they continued their trek stewing over in their anxiety.

Soon, the forest cleared to their right to reveal a massive rectangular pool that looked like a small lake. Peeta knew from the books that the ancient people used this for their purification rights. Walking further, following the pool, they reached the wall of the temple complex. It was not tall but it stretched endlessly on either side and time had eroded the solidity of the bricks, leaving them rough and porous with only a hint of its once-brilliant sheen of red. Atop the two posts of the gate, the dual-faced head of the ancient deity stood, one face looking backwards and another facing towards them.

He felt Katniss step closer to him.

"Are you ready, Katniss?"

She fiddled with her locket again before giving her assent and they walked the red path through the gate.

The trees inside were more enormous, and Peeta had never seen them grow so tall and so massive in diameter. The roots alone were as thick as a grown man. No creatures thronged from the dense forest.

"Why is the ground red?" Katniss suddenly asked, looking at him from his side as they continued to walk.

"Because the temple was the site of human sacrifices and they poured the blood of the victims on the ground on their way out."

Katniss stopped and looked green, and before she could expel her meal, he laughed and told her that it took its hue from the mineral deposits present.

"The ground is the same color as in our mines, Katniss."

"You have mines?"

"Yes, gold, copper, iron, and other metals. What do you think runs our economy and our trade with the other kingdoms?"

Katniss shrugged, "I just never gave it much thought. So what happened here?" She looked around at the moss covered stone blocks that littered the way.

"It most likely fell into disarray when a new faith emerged."

They walked further and were greeted by the inner fortification of the temple.

He heard Katniss gasp at the wondrous sight of the giant, ancient trees straddling the walls that remained of the temple fortification with their immense roots, perched like predatory birds. Inside, in the first square courtyard where more stone blocks tumbled in a heap, the massive roots rippled through the earth and traveled across the courtyard.

They walked further into the adjacent courtyard and found the same scene: more colossal roots, dusty earth, and mossy blocks. They walked through the deserted quadrangles, where Katniss unfortunately tripped on a root, until they reached one where a small, old, stone tower with four surrounding antechambers stood in the middle.

Peeta noted the intricate carvings on the tower walls of what he presumed were the minor deities from before. It was also littered with ancient scripts and he decided to translate this to see if it helped in finding the pearl. He divided the work with the Captain and the other guards, giving them a copy of the scrolls. Katniss, bored and with nothing much to do, hummed in the background as she paced the quadrangle.

He went inside the tower and was thankful that light passed through from a hole in its tip so he can work easily.

The ancient scripts and reliefs fascinated him with their tales of conquests and defeat, but he moved on if they did not indicate anything more than warfare.

On the south wall of the tower, he noticed a small, worn statue of the deity Teirnon, evidenced by the twin faces looking at opposite directions. The script beneath was different from the rest and he followed his intuition to work on this.

And it paid off.

He exhaled proudly as he studied the complete translation that told him where the next pearl was located. They would find it in the complex's central temple, the one consecrated to the twin-headed deity to the north of the connected quadrangles.

Peeta stepped out of the tower and was eager to get Katniss but noticed the absence of her humming. He asked the Captain about her whereabouts and he pointed him to the direction of the quadrangle to their right.

He felt uneasy and did not like that they were separated. He called out to her but there was only silence. He walked to the next courtyard and found no one. He walked further, quickening his pace and feeling anxiety pool at his stomach. When he did not find her, he went back to the direction he came from to order the guards to search for Katniss. But he walked and was met with more empty courtyards even if he was sure he should have been back to the one where the small tower stood.

Peeta fought the slight panic rising. He shouted Katniss's name again and again, each name louder and more desperate than the last.

He searched the quadrangles and still could not find his way back to the guards.

Then he heard Katniss calling him from a distance.

He followed her voice, mindful of the roots sprawled in the courtyard as he raced towards the sound. But every time he thought he was near, the sound would come from a different direction.

He paused to gather his bearings and note his surroundings like the roots of the trees and the varying states of decay of the walls, so he would not get lost as he searched the courtyards.

Peeta walked and ran, marched and turned.

But as minutes ticked by, he knew he had to accept that he somehow had strayed and was alone, with only the labyrinthine courtyards and the distant calls of Katniss as his companion.

* * *

Prince Aldran's mannerisms, Lord Abernathy thought, bore too close a resemblance to his mother, the late Queen Phaedra. They both pinched the end of their fingers with the other hand when matters bothered them.

His new charge was busy reading off a scroll, ignoring the plate of food in his front.

The early morning sun shone through the tall windows of the dining room of the Twelfth Kingdom's stately manor in the Capitol where they broke their fast. This one was an early riser, unlike his brother before him.

Lord Abernathy preferred a different method to awakening his body and he took a mighty chug from his silver flask.

The boy was doing well for the past week that they had been in the Capitol. He was energetic and likeable and shook hands firmly with a warm smile that even the veterans would take as sincere. He passed the scrutiny of the Chancellor and immediately launched on his expectations on himself until he ran out of steam and began to talk idly, to which the Chancellor politely entertained and even gave advice.

Lord Abernathy forgot to tell the boy to be less eager.

Still, the boy was trying.

They had just discussed his schedule that the Council had established and one that his brother before him followed. The first and second days of the week were dedicated to the Committee hearings for the pending bills with both the Parliament and the Council, the fourth day of the week belonged to the Judiciary Assembly of the Council, the sixth day saw them all in the Executive Meeting with the Chancellor to discuss what had been accomplished in the week and what needed to be done in the next. The rest of the days were for more meetings with the Cabinet Ministers, Parliament Members, as well as the staff that ran the administrative and research work for the Grand Duke's office.

But Lord Abernathy was not done yet.

"My Prince, have you given thought on the committee you would like to chair?"

And Haymitch handed him a stiff paper with the list of legislative committees.

"Prince Matthis chaired both the Appropriation Committee as well as the Amendments Committee. They are still available, as kind Princess Antigone had only overseen them until a representative from our kingdom returned to the Council. If you choose them still, you will be working closely with Interior Minister Heavensbee for the Appropriations Committee and Justice Minister Barnes for the Amendments Committee"

He heard the boy exhale audibly at the extensive list. He surmised that came after the boy read the subcommittees, which had always been too tedious and long-drawn.

Perhaps the boy had exhausted his merry fount of energy as he could see the Grand Duke visibly tense at the committees that have been left.

Prince Aldran stared at the bowl of figs at the center of the table, looking like he wished to be somewhere else.

Haymitch took another swig before replying, almost rolling his eyes.

"Well take as much time as you would like. The Council will appreciate the glacial pace with which you handle things, and this is only on choosing your committee."

Aldran blanched. "There's more?"

"Why of course! And while we're on the subject of committees, your Lord Father—"

And Haymitch reached from the table behind them a thick parcel and dropped it by Aldran's plate with a thud.

"—would like you to look over these. It has been a year since we had official representation in the Council plus in the legislative arm of the government and I daresay his bills have languished. It is now your cheery duty to attend to them," finished Haymitch sardonically.

Aldran resumed his serious manner as he looked inside the parcel and drew out several scrolls and papers. Haymitch drew more papers from the mound of documents to his right, handing a few more sheaves to Aldran.

"Your Lord Father would like you to prioritize these amendments to the commerce law regarding the limit on the copper trade that Prince Thresh sponsored a year and a half ago. In addition to that, Finance Minister Heller has been in correspondence with me over the new rulings of the Appropriations Committee. It's this time of the year that these ministers badger you for the budgets. And of course, on a more politically personal note, there is the matter of your betrothal to the First Kingdom's Princess Cashmere."

When the prince did not look at him, he realized that perhaps sometime in the middle of his speech, Prince Aldran no longer processed what he said. The young prince had that glassy look on his eye while he fiddled the edge of the papers. It reminded him too much of how the eldest was also overwhelmed when he first came to the Capitol. Everything reminded him of his failed charge and how that boy now rested as dust in the royal crypt.

Haymitch sighed.

"Listen to me Aldran, there are four things you have to remember whilst here, and I told your brother this as well. First, in order to get anything done within the Council, the Legislative Committees, and Parliament, you have to have friends. You have to maintain connections with the people who wield influence. You are smart enough to know who these people are."

He can see the boy shake his head a little in an effort to comprehend better.

"Second, you need to learn how to judge people: when to befriend and when to stay away from them. You need to know who lurks to destroy you or who will be your unlikely ally."

At that moment, a servant knocked on the door to deliver a letter. It was sealed with bronze wax and was from the Fourth Kingdom's Prince Finnick, announcing his intent to break his fast with them that morning.

But he continued and decided to deal with this swiftly before their guest arrived.

"Third, and I consider this most crucial. Do not forget whom you will be dealing with here. These are men who are not always good. But man is man, after all. He will have needs, visions, dreams, desires, and all of these color his actions. You should know how to use this to your advantage."

Then they heard the announcement of the arrival of Prince Finnick before Haymitch could finish with his last advice. They heard his hearty bellow as he greeted the doorman.

"Ah, my comrade in tardiness! I heard the hearing for the Education Committee commenced half an hour ago and we were supposed to be assisting Prince Taurus for that." Prince Finnick exclaimed, whirling about the room and thumping Prince Aldran on the shoulder before taking his seat and immediately filling his plate.

"I am fortunate to have caught you while partaking in your meal. I have not had a decent one since I left home from the break and I have not much time this morning from the barrage of notes I had to study, as you can sympathize." And he pierced a fat slab of meat with his fork after using it to point to the heaps of paper on the table.

"So who will assist Prince Taurus in the debates then?" Asked Aldran.

Prince Finnick pretended to think thoughtfully. "I am not entirely certain. Probably Prince Hyperion, even though the two are hilariously combustible! But that talk's too stodgy for this hour. Let us turn our attentions to the more exciting tittle-tattle the staff like to prattle on. What did I miss, apart from Princess Ursa's tentacles?"

Haymitch snorted. "Oh I hate to be herald of unfortunate news but it seems the princess has turned her thoughts from you and is now anticipating her meeting with Aldran this afternoon."

Prince Finnick sniggered while chewing on his meat. "Well she's bound to be disappointed once the announcement of the betrothal is made at the Unification Ball."

Prince Aldran rolled his eyes, ignored them, and took a sip of wine before replying. "I have no recollection of any recent rumors but we did miss the Council hearing a few weeks ago on the decision to counter attack the hostile force. Have you no one in your retinue to cook for you?" He asked Finnick exasperatedly as the latter heaved a heaping of mashed strawberries and reached for a flask of cream.

"She is indisposed. And the replacement has not yet mastered the temperament of my taste buds."

Aldran shook his head in amazement before turning somber again.

"How is Princess Annelis doing back in the Eighth Kingdom?"

Haymitch noticed the difficulty with which Prince Finnick swallowed.

"They had seen better days, that's certain. The unusual famine to hit them coupled with the territories annexed by the invaders have gotten their nobility restless and have been clamoring for direct retaliation despite the forces sent by Defense Minister Crane. She could have stayed here, gods know the Council is more bearable with her, but she went back to care for her ailing grandmother, Queen Dowager Magda."

Finnick continued. "I can't do anything yet to interfere, not until the marriage, father said. I can only hope that her brother and father could contain the situation before it turns mutinous."

The news was greeted with silence. The hostile force was always a sore point in discussions.

Aldran reached for a scroll and handed it to Prince Finnick before adding, "It seems we are on the same side for the debates later with Prince Gunner over the Agrarian Committee."

Finnick laughed after a hasty chug of wine. "Debates, my friend, suppose a presence of discourse. Prince Gunner likes to drown out other people's voices with his own."

And with that, Finnick stood and raised his arms, "Many owed thanks, my comrades. I shall see you later in the rooms where the air is bloated with egos," and took his leave.

Once the Fourth Kingdom's Grand Duke had walked out the door, Haymitch rounded on the young prince with more reminders, particularly about King Owain's backdoor alliances, to which the Prince replied, forehead bowed on both his hands,

"It's too early in the day to be plotting, Lord Abernathy."

"Nonsense. Your adversaries delight in plotting and you should make it second nature to you as well."

Aldran lifted his head and stared at his unfinished plate before turning to face Haymitch again with a question. "So what's the fourth lesson?"

Haymitch took in the young prince's clouded eyes and sagging shoulders, and with a small smile filled Aldran's goblet with the ruby liquid.

"Fourth, everything's dealt with better with some wine in the belly."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Lord Abernathy barely survived his meeting with Trade Minister Clarke, who complained that the tax measures Prince Matthis levied two years on Lead production affected the businesses, but Finance Minister Heller was only too happy to see the government coffers increase. He left the two of them to argue and went to the Plenary Hall.

He thought he may have had a sip too many from the morning as he watched Prince Aldran, who was on his fourth Committee debate for the day, from the sloping seats flanking the debate floor. They were approaching the late hours of the sun as Prince Aldran argued with Princess Johanna and Prince Gloss over several clauses in the Labor Committee's bill on wage ceilings.

The sunlight entered the massive hall through the circular opening in the domed roof. Their lilting voices echoed in the marble walls of the Plenary Hall. He saw that the Chancellor had vacated his high seat at the front. Haymitch also saw the vultures, or rather the other bureaucrats and staff members, lingering by the pillars.

He remembered Prince Matthis's name for them. He fondly called them serpents, spitting the word like an expletive one night when he came home late from a joint meeting with the Council and the Chancellor's Cabinet. It was that night Haymitch suspected Matthis to have offended too many of the serpents with his intractable nature. When his suspicions had been confirmed, it was too late to save the boy. Until this moment, Haymitch still wondered which one of the people here ordered the Prince's execution.

Haymitch took another swig of liquor, the last one, he promised himself. He hoped it would be enough to tide him through Prince Gloss's painful rhetoric. He dropped the cap of his flask and it rolled a few feet and stopped by the shiny shoes of Interior Minister Heavensbee. His saffron robe swung when he bent to pick up the cap and handed it over to Haymitch with barely concealed amusement over his inebriation.

_Fool._

"It is a most pleasant sight to have you back at the Capitol, Lord Abernathy. How are your good King Owain and his mines?"

_Exceptionally well, no thanks to any of your slippery interference. _Their king still resented the Council's involvement in their gold output.

"I thank you for your concern, Minister Heavensbee. It gladdens me to share that my king has been in excellent spirits."

The Minister's sympathetic smile did not reach his eyes. He turned to the floor and exclaimed "What a pity I had missed the debates for the Appropriations Committee. And what a splendid debut of Prince Aldran! No doubt King Owain should be proud. But my condolences still beg to be aired. Prince Matthis's death was indeed most tragic and untimely. The Chancellor had high hopes for him but it should console you that in his short time here, he had accomplished many things for our nation. And between the two of us, that is quite an achievement compared to some of his peers," the Minister whispered conspiratorially.

"Your words are a deep comfort to us, even after a year. We would never cease remembering our late Prince's efforts."

Plutarch exhaled, and Haymitch knew, with the grip with which the Minister held the railing, that the pleasantries had gone and the real conversation would begin. The duality in dealings was something he was only too glad to leave in the Capitol.

"I do have a purpose for seeking you out Lord Abernathy."

He ignored Heavensbee and looked on as Prince Aldran struggled to maintain composure over the cutting words Princess Johanna dealt him.

"You are quite the pragmatic man, Lord Abernathy. It's such a rare commodity nowadays. The Chancellor has grand plans for Panem and he has room in his ranks for pragmatic men. You would be most welcome to reap the fruits we would sow."

Haymitch's natural reaction would be to narrow his eye, but not when Minister Heavensbee was beside him and reading every emotion he betrayed.

"And what fruits have you reaped in your efforts to curb the annexation of the invaders?"

Minister Heavensbee replied stiffly, "They are being attended to, my Lord, rest assured."

"Yes the people of Panem would be most indebted to the Chancellor if he rids us of this thorn."

They continued to watch the debates on the floor, observing each other in their peripheral. Princess Johanna was now glaring at Prince Gloss.

"So what answer should I report back to the Chancellor?"

"That I know where my loyalty lies."

Heavensbee beadily squinted his eye. "I will be most blunt now, my Lord, if you would forgive me. Most men have a price. Name yours then."

"Mine is a vault of gold the size and heft of your barren mountains in the Second Kingdom. If the Chancellor can find a carriage to pull that, then I will be his most loyal servant."

_Arrogant fools_, Haymitch thought.

"Such a waste then, if that be your choice. Nobody will come to your aid when the Chancellor unleashes his anger on his enemies. There will be no telling how deep the wound would go."

"And who's to say that we do not also have plans we plot in the thick of the midnight clouds?"

Minister Heavensbee chuckled unperturbed. "If you did, we would know, just as we know everything in Panem, including your kingdom's precious legends, particularly that of the Mockingjay."

Haymitch met the Minister's eyes when he turned his head to look him full on. The debates had ended and they could see Prince Aldran making his way up to them.

"On a lighter note, the Unification Ball is nearing. We unfortunately ran out of paper earlier this month so the invitations had been sent in staggered stages and I have a few I can spare. Should I extend one to your youngest prince? I am sure Prince Aldran would like the support of his brother when his betrothal is announced."

Haymitch pleasantly exclaimed his thanks and added that the Minister can send the invitation through him.

Minister Heavensbee turned to leave but not before murmuring, "A fire would be starting, my Lord. Flee before you burn with them."

And he watched the saffron robes billow once more as Minister Heavensbee walked out the Plenary Hall.

Haymitch decided to meet Aldran in the mezzanine landing that led to where he sat.

He racked his head for the remaining work the Prince had to attend to and he reminded the young prince that tomorrow, despite his heated argument with Prince Gloss earlier, they would be associates in another debate.

"Play nice," he added.

Exasperated, Aldran retorted, "Is there no constancy of intercourse in this place? Can I not stay angry at a person and not be _nice_ to them because I do not wish to since they had been as pleasant with me as the ass of a boar is pleasing?"

Haymitch broke his promise to himself and swung again from his silver flask. The liquor burned sweetly down his throat as they marched through the corridor.

"Of course not. You say today what you promised yesterday never to do. You shed your skin like a serpent and renew your face. Fight with them on one issue and ally with them on another. That is the way. This is the Capitol."

* * *

She was bored so she decided to explore the temple while Peeta and the others translated the ancient scripts.

The temple and the ancient trees were spellbinding in the sense that she never thought she would see high walls being dwarfed by even taller trees, with their roots astride the walls like it forced them into submission.

Katniss hummed as she walked to the next courtyard but was surprised by the sudden lack of sound. She turned around to walk back through the gap in the wall where she came from but found it to be empty.

_Shit._

A cold, heavy stone dropped into her stomach as she remembered the question she posited Priestess Sae so long ago about encountering magic and magical beings.

_Not again_, she thought.

It was in situations like the one she found herself in that she cursed her curiosity. Why couldn't she have stayed in the courtyard until Peeta told her where the pearl was?

She called for him, trying to see if he replied so she could follow his voice. There was silence.

She shouted his name again, rooted to the courtyard she was in now and did not dare to move from it so she would not get lost further.

But it was futile. No one answered her cries.

Katniss sank down to one of the mossy rocks that littered the square yard and remembered the calm breathing Peeta taught her to fight hysteria. She crossed her arms on her stomach, hugging herself, and curled forward as she rocked slowly, breathing in and out.

She did not know how long a time passed and the sun was still unmerciful as its rays touched the top of her head when she heard footsteps approaching her.

She looked up and was comforted to see Peeta walking towards her.

Katniss stood up and ran to him, relief surging in her, and nearly tripping again in her eagerness.

When she reached him, she playfully poked his chest for not finding her sooner, rolling her eyes as she admonished him for making her worry.

He stood there in front of Katniss, looking intently at her.

His rough hand suddenly reached out and closed around her neck painfully, fingers constricting in a mad force. Her choking sounds and the pushing of her feet against the ground were all she heard as her hands gripped his to stop him from crushing her throat.

* * *

Her screams stopped and Peeta did as well from running to look for her. He felt a presence behind him and when he turned, he saw Katniss. He exhaled his relief and slight annoyance.

"Where did you go? You left us distressed when you went missing."

But Katniss only walked to him, impishly smiling, and pushed him roughly against a wall. Peeta was too dazed to react over the unexpected gesture as Katniss pushed herself against him. He could feel all her curves painfully exposed and his body slowly awakened in response.

He gripped her sides and pried her from his body, exhaling sharply. "Katniss?"

Ignoring him, she pushed forward and nuzzled his throat, her breath tickling as it trailed upwards and she whispered in his ear.

"Why so inhibited my prince? Have these thoughts never entered your mind?" and her hands snaked slowly down his waist, across his hips, and down to stroke his quaking flesh.

Peeta closed his eyes and it was painfully hard to grip her hands and draw them away from the area where the blood flowed excitedly.

He held her hands and twisted it to the small of her back and clutched it there.

"What are you doing Katniss?"

He looked into her eyes, hazy and filled with barely-contained lust. Surprised, his grip on her slackened and it was the only moment she needed to slip them from him. With her free hands, Katniss drew his head forcefully down into her waiting mouth.

She was delicious in a way his mind's limitations never comprehended in the times he thought of her. She was searing and her tongue pliant, and he felt her nails scrape against his nape.

He broke away, astonished at what they had done. But Katniss already sensed this and was, it seemed, a step ahead of him.

"Turn your thoughts to pleasure, my fair prince. There's no one here but us." she whispered as she gasped for air, chest heaving and drawing his eyes down to the pert, cleaved flesh.

"This is my answer," she continued, as her hand caressed through his hair gently.

Inflamed, he groaned like a defeated man, and turned Katniss around so he crushed her to the wall. Unrestrained and empowered, his lips sought hers again as his body thrummed.

* * *

Commander Boggs rushed up the palace steps. His cape billowed amidst the fall of powdery snow and the fur collar kept him warm in addition to the heat from his anger at their Queen Regent's recalcitrant opinion despite his advice.

He crushed the letter in his palm. He had only arrived this morning from their attack on the Eleventh Kingdom and had been hoping for a few moments with his family when the Queen Regent's letter arrived. He had given a strong reply but felt the need to argue his reasons in person.

_What was she thinking? Which halfwit's opinion in her council did she heed?_ he thought irritably as his clipped gait reverberated through the palace halls. The guards stood still and upright in his presence as he passed their long line.

He opened the door to the throne room with a low creak.

Their Queen Alma was there, magnificent in her emerald dress atop the unforgiving, gleaming copper throne where no family sat for more than three generations, receiving her nobles and vassals's celebratory words over their latest conquest. He slowed his steps and halted by a corner and observed the room.

She liked this, he knew. She would kill to keep her seat, like all the dead kings and queens before her. He wondered whether she would eventually relinquish her grip on the throne to let her only son, the true heir, rule.

Lord Feywin knelt before Queen Alma and offered his family's tribute and the court clapped in approval.

Boggs felt his nostrils flare as he sighed in displeasure.

His soldiers were across the frigid sea, fighting and bleeding for the kingdom's future while its nobles sat in warmth as the wine they feasted in flowed through their veins.

Next in line was Lord Orster, offering up his family's ancient shield.

_He should offer up his head for his treason_, Boggs thought darkly.

But Queen Alma showed not a strain on her face as she received Lord Orster's gift, choosing perhaps at that moment not to remember that it was he who led the unsuccessful coup after the death of King Eber. Perhaps the fact that almost half of Lord Orster's host had been vanquished in the battlefield conciliated the Queen. It was not a coincidence most of Orster's men were placed in the battlefront.

Years ago, when the Queen was much too young and newly widowed, and the Prince was but a child who clung to her dress and begged to be carried, Boggs was Queen Alma's last hope. She was of such desperation that she placed her faith in a mercenary like him, not trusting the gentlemen left by her husband who had sworn their fealty.

It was a snowing day like this when Queen Alma's fear almost came to pass. She asked him to get her son from his room and was overwrought with nerves and things she only saw. But when he opened Prince Nim's room, if he was but a second too late, the Queen would have gone mad with grief once more. He killed the assassin paid to take Prince Nim's life but saw the child had sustained a wound that slashed across his face from his eyebrow to his cheek. The Queen did not let him go for years. She had Boggs dispose the kingdom of its traitorous scourge swiftly and he had been loyal to Queen Alma from thenceforth.

And since that day, she exchanged her tractable skin for one that was apt in manipulation, ruthlessness, and stoic efficiency. She had imposed the austere measures on their kingdom to strengthen her hold and avoid any uprisings from the lack of food. Her temper had also increased, adding to the faint lines that traced her forehead and some whitened strands of her dark hair. Drunk in the heady perfume of absolute power, her maniacal greed also swelled, prompting them to launch their assault on their neighbor to support their kingdom dying in hunger.

He caught her eye then and she bid the nobles to leave. After the throne room had been vacated, after much bowing and low murmurs of praise for the Queen from the nobles needing her favor, they quietly proceeded to her office. He wasted no time and unfurled the letter on her table as she took her seat impatiently.

"Yes, yes, I know you will come to me about that. But before we discuss such a dull, administrative subject, is everything ready?"

He saw her face glister with that hard determinedness.

"Yes of course. Have you received my letter in reply?"

"I did. But Lord Orster thinks it is better to proceed with a full army."

"Lord Orster?" He could not help his disbelief and a pang of ire.

"Yes, he had opinions on the matter I could not disregard."

_You mean you had an ache between your legs you could not ignore._

He breathed in deeply before he spoke.

"My Queen, you cannot sustain a war without sending provisions to your soldiers. To have adequate provisions, you need food. Our reserves are swiftly depleting with each successful conquest. To have food, you will need men to harvest the winter wheat—"

But he underestimated her patience and her infamous temper flared with her sarcasm.

"So we stop our war, Commander, is that what your sentiments are leading to?"

Boggs stood his ground and replied calmly. Over the years, he had learned how to deal with her temper.

"I had only suggested that we take back enough men to till both the old and new lands. Even if we do, I can assure you our momentum will not be affected."

"And I had only commanded as your sovereign to continue at our current capacity. I do not understand why you do not see that we are still treading on slippery ice. I will not have my people be lured into security over victories in two kingdoms. There is no certainty for us until our enemies fall on their knees. And even then, I will not withdraw my hold." She rested her chin on top of her clasped hands, as she had been wont to do when she would like the conversation to stop.

They looked and sized each other.

Boggs was about to launch a tirade as to how vacuous and ill-thought Lord Orster's opinion was when the door groaned open and Prince Nim entered.

He was still small for a boy of eight and Boggs felt that stab of regret when he saw the scar that marred Prince Nim's face.

"Come here my darling," Queen Alma cooed, claws retracted. The boy went straight to his mother's arms. "Have you acknowledged Commander Boggs? Do not forget what your governess taught you."

The young prince turned to him with his sweet brown eyes. He did not inherit those from his mother.

"Good morrow Commander Boggs. It would please me to hear that you are hale and hearty and that our war is doing well," the Prince intoned softly.

"My Prince," Boggs bowed, "I thank you for your concern. I had never been in better states and I had returned from another successful campaign in the grasslands of the Eleventh Kingdom."

The Prince nodded shyly and Queen Alma gave him a small peck on the cheek. He was fumbling with his toy before he asked,

"Is the inner garden complete, mother?"

"Why yes, darling! Would you like to see?" to which the boy nodded his head once more.

"I have but a few more subjects to discuss with Commander Boggs but I shall be with you shortly," and Boggs saw her smile delightfully at her son and the years of strain had been lifted, if for a few seconds, off their Queen's face.

They watched the boy run eagerly towards the door and the Queen spoke again.

"Do not forget why we started this war, even if you forget where your boundaries lie."

"Do not forget as well that you need soldiers to win the war first before you can reap its benefits," Boggs countered.

Queen Alma stood up and rounded on him, her own eyes ablaze.

"I care not whether I live to see thousands of my men die so long as they do what they need to do to secure our victory. We would all have died with great pains in our belly if we did not conquer more lands to feed our people." and she added in a more composed manner,

"We started this war for our children, for their future, so that they may live without going to sleep on empty, grumbling stomachs, and if we should pay the price with our lives, we shall. Our children deserve nothing less," she whispered as she followed her son and left Boggs in the room.

* * *

The fury in his eyes was frightening.

All her fears were realizing themselves now: fear for her life, Peeta's incomprehensible betrayal, and the doubt that was looming larger.

Her foot skidded as she tried to pry his hands. She bit her tongue, exhausted from the effort, and tasted blood.

Katniss knew she had one more hope. Remembering the bloody lagoon where the siren was intent on drowning her, she called forth that same fight in her, that last strength she still had.

In a fit of desperate inspiration, and drawing from an upsurge of bitter feelings, Katniss swung her right leg up into the juncture of this maddened Peeta's thighs. His knees buckled at the force.

She broke from him and ran.

Katniss sprinted through the courtyards, turning left in one and right in another, going forward and never looking back to see if the murderous man chased her.

Breathing was made more painful as her muscles demanded more air to fuel her mad dash. Her toes clashed painfully into her leather boots and she felt a stitch on her side.

She came across one courtyard that had sunk into the ground, the ruins of blocks high in a pile, and she had to hop carefully on top of the remaining pillars to reach the other end.

When she was sure a good deal of distance was between her and that man, she stopped. Katniss looked at the wall of the next courtyard and found them to be hollowed with corridors. She hid in one, making sure to try and breathe silently in case she was followed. The blocks were sharp against her back as she leaned into them.

She felt her neck and winced at the tender flesh. But she was thankful to still be alive.

As her mind gradually processed that she was out of immediate danger, she could think again.

Her first thought was that that could not have been Peeta. It looked like him, but her mind could not reconcile the normally docile prince who all but confessed his feelings to her to that violent twin.

No, something must be wrong. She had to find the real Peeta and sort this mess they were in. She looked begrudgingly at the bangle on her left arm, with the sole pearl they found resting innocently. Oh the cost it took to attain these pearls! That weapon had better be extraordinary.

Extricating herself from the wall, Katniss slowly peeked out from behind a pillar to see if savage Peeta was anywhere nearby. He wasn't, so she stepped back into the silent courtyard, quickly crossing it to go to the adjacent quadrangle.

This she walked through quickly when she saw it empty.

The next held the strangest surprise for her.

Peeta was there, but he wasn't charging at her to kill. Instead, his attentions were lavishly imparted on another girl he was passionately making out with, hands roving everywhere on her body, heads twisting in earnest vivacity.

Katniss was stunned.

She tasted blood on her tongue once more as a corrosive hatred consumed her at the sight of the two entangled persons.

_Bastard!_

Enraged, she marched towards the two and grabbed Peeta's shoulder and yanked him off the girl.

She was unprepared for the face of the girl, with the roguish, mocking eyes and swollen lips.

It was her.

All her fury from earlier and now washed through Katniss as she took Peeta's sword, slid it from its scabbard, and stabbed the girl in front of her through the stomach. She ignored Peeta's yell as her double disintegrated into dust before their eyes and the sword clanged loudly against a rock.

Katniss badly wanted to get the sword, swing it up to Peeta's neck, and push him into the wall.

Instead, she turned accusingly to Peeta, who was still gaping at her, for once at a loss for his smooth wit.

"Were you enjoying slobbering her with your pure affections?" She asked scathingly.

She didn't give him a chance to reply as she pivoted on her foot and stomped away.

_Men! Promising me the stars one moment and breaking my heart the next_, she thought fumingly.

"Katniss!" She heard him call to her sharply.

She ignored him and continued to walk towards the next empty courtyard, not knowing where exactly she was going but she wanted to get away. She wanted to wish to never have seen what she had.

"Katniss, wait!"

She marched faster. He should not see what was streaming down her face. Katniss wiped it with the back of her hand angrily.

_Stupid girl._

She heard him nearing her and she ran. Katniss passed another wall and was in the forest once more. She must have gone to the edge of the maze-like courtyards. Katniss followed the dusty road and still ignored the frantic prince behind her.

To his credit, he did not try to stop her or call to her again. Peeta followed silently behind her. She did not want to see him or be lost in the apology in his eyes. She didn't want anything for now but to let the hot, frustrating anger consume her and wait for it to ebb away.

She reached another clearing where the trees gave way to another massive temple rising conically from the ground. It was dark with age. It stood high, with stone steps leading to its summit, and the twin headed deity surrounded the perimeter of each of the three levels that ascended.

Katniss approached the temple and the lower walls that were carved with scenes from a battle. She could make out spears and shields and battle formations. She wished she could lance that stupid emotion overtaking her now.

She paused in front of the steps leading upwards. The stone stairs were very steep and tall; each step in front of her face was the length of twice her head.

But she had to confirm first that this was the site of the second pearl.

She closed her eyes and willed that prickling feeling in her nose to go away, along with that telltale redness, before she can face Peeta.

_Too late. _

Katniss heard him stop a few feet from her back.

"Is this where the pearl is?" she asked without turning. The sun was hot down her head, making it ache with heat. She swatted away a last, traitorous tear.

"Yes, Katniss I…"

She didn't give him time to reply and climbed the steep stairs, again thankful that she was not in a dress because climbing it required a maneuvering of arms and legs.

She reached the first level. There were two to go to reach the top. A flash to her left caught her eye and when she looked, she saw the crazed eyes of the mad Peeta she escaped from, the one who wanted her dead, walking menacingly towards her from one of the columns that supported the twin-headed deity.

She screamed to the gentle one she left at the bottom of the temple.

* * *

"Katniss, run!"

Peeta shouted again after hearing Katniss's cry. He was scrambling up the steep steps, not caring that the jagged rocks had scratched his palm as he scurried upwards.

He reached the first level and scanned his surroundings madly for any sign of Katniss or her attacker. He looked through the antechambers in the middle, and also beyond them to the other side through its windows. There were flashes of clothing to his peripheral and he followed that.

He ran around a corner and was faced with Katniss's attacker.

It was him.

The assailant punched him in the jaw and Peeta staggered backwards before he felt a sharp kick to his stomach. While disoriented with the pain and the incredulity at seeing another one of himself, his attacker carried him by the waist and flung him over the edge.

He was able to reach out to a sharp rock by the wall to hold onto before he continued his descent. It stung his palm with the force but Peeta ignored it. He heard the scuffle of footsteps and it forced him to climb the wall faster, pushing with his legs, and return to the first level of the temple.

Once there, he looked at his palm and saw a deep gash on his left, with bits of dirt clinging to the loosened flap of skin.

He ignored the pain and ran towards the sound. He saw his double's broad back and he ran faster as that man closed in on Katniss. He pulled the dagger from his belt, vaulted off the wall with a high jump to close the distance, and plunged the dagger into the side of the assailant's neck. It disintegrated and he heard the scrape of metal against rock once more as the dagger fell.

Peeta looked around as he tried to catch his breath. Katniss was nowhere to be found.

"Katniss!"

He picked up the dagger and sheathed it. Peeta walked and shouted for Katniss, looking into the dark crevices and entering an antechamber.

He found Katniss crouched in a corner behind two boulders that had dislodged from the roof, shrinking against the wall.

"Katniss, it's me." He intoned softly as he saw her eyes contract in fright. He held his hands up as he knelt slowly in front of her. She wheezed and it seemed a difficulty for her to breathe.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked in a low tone.

"Earlier, in the courtyards," she said as she showed him her neck where the bruises formed.

Peeta let out a hiss of anger before speaking.

"Katniss, I am so sorry," as he stroked her cheek with a finger, unsure if she would allow him the gesture.

"Your hand," Katniss noticed his bloodied palm and proceeded to inspect the wound.

"We have to get back and get it treated Peeta, it looks bad."

Peeta shook his head. "Not yet, the pearl's here. We need to retrieve that first at sunset."

And he helped her up and was surprised when Katniss threw her arms around him tightly. He wound his around her waist and rested his cheek on top of her head. They stood like this for a while before Katniss drew back and looked at him in displeasure, the earlier energy and desperation withdrawing, and she perhaps remembered her anger because her eyes narrowed again.

She tried to squirm out of his arms but he pulled her tighter.

"No, I need you to hear me first," but she squirmed more and pulled her face to a pout. Peeta chuckled.

"Look at you, all puffed and cross like a prickly porcupine when you're really a squeaky, fluffy squirrel in temperament."

"I have every right to be angry at you. And way to apologize and romance me by comparing me to a rodent!" She successfully broke free and stomped out of the antechamber. The sky was beginning to glow.

Peeta followed her, amused at her outburst. He pulled her again in his arms but she would not look up.

"It would be untruthful to say that what you saw was something I did not want badly," he said as he guided her chin up to look at him. He continued.

"Your little walk through the forest gave me time to think for you because I know how stubborn you can be. There's a telling reason you were angry earlier and you know that. You're already there Katniss, but you've yet to accept it."

Peeta released her and walked towards the steep, rocky stairs that would lead to the top of the temple.

They climbed it silently and strode towards the small room in the middle where another statue of the deity stood.

The eyes on both faces were pearls.

"So which one is it?" Katniss asked him.

"We have to wait for the sunset."

Peeta led Katniss to the wall on the statue's left where they looked at the twin faces as the sun shone through from the temple columns across.

Before the sun dipped into the horizon, the eyes gleamed, but one shone more brightly than the other three. Peeta pointed this to Katniss and she went to pluck the pearl from the face that looked to the front. He heard her secure it into her bangle.

Peeta rushed to her until he stood a hand's length away. Their earlier conversation was not done yet.

"What are you so afraid of Katniss?" He murmured.

She turned around and faced him defiantly before whispering, "Nothing."

She scratched the tip of her nose as she always did when she tried to hide something. She looked down now.

Peeta smiled. "I think I know," and her head snapped back up, eyes suspicious.

"Remember when you had too much wine before we retrieved the first pearl? I could not forget that night because you told me I was irreplaceable."

Her face contorted in shock. "I did not say that!"

She pushed him playfully. Her skirting of the matter hurt him but he was undeterred. He sighed before continuing in a more serious manner. He will push her back until she broke her obstinacy.

"Katniss, nobody lives their lives thinking they would die. And when I am with you, I do not think of you leaving me for your world."

She looked sullen. He let her be as they climbed the steps down in silence before the dark made it hard to see.

"So where do we go next?" Katniss asked when they reached the ground.

Peeta looked at her, face already relaxed as a shy smile crept up her lips.

"How would you like to see the Hanging Castles?"

And Katniss smiled disarmingly that he could not help but pull her to him once more.

* * *

"Would that walls could talk, eh boy?" came the wheezing question of the bound man they captured.

Lord Hawthorne looked up from his bowed position, sitting in a chair that offered no relief to his aching back. He saw the man's form in the feeble light from the lone torch at the opposite wall. When he inhaled, he smelled the man's excrements in the chamber pot below the table and that stench woke him more.

It was the man's first words in days. It was the first sound, that scratchy quality in a voice rarely used, apart from the damning water drops that Lord Hawthorne had heard too in days. The irregular drops, their patter on the man's wrinkled skin that was stretched across the bony forehead, was slowly chipping at _his _essence as well. They eroded him, along with pity, guilt, and the wretchedness he felt over the position he held.

Minister Crane had afforded him the honor of guarding the prisoner and awaiting the secrets he would spill once his mind's walls had been washed away with its own instability.

But none came, despite the inconsistent deluge of the droplets.

The man lay bare with but a loincloth on the hard, wooden table, immobilized by the rough hemp and leather. He had a sturdy mind, having been subjected to Minister Crane's slow torture and still showed no sign of lunacy. The prisoner had been denied food, save for a bowl of weak broth at supper in the hope that he would cooperate.

But Gale knew, even without the added tortures, that this man will not yield anything of consequence.

He walked over to the center of the dank, underground room from the wall where his chair rested.

"And what do you surmise they shall speak of?" Gale asked, as he went nearer.

He had blocked the funnel of water last night so the man had enough rest. No one came in to check anymore, not even Minister Crane, past the third day of the torture producing no results.

After he made the decision to relieve the prisoner, that small vial his mother had given him before he left the Twelfth Kingdom hung heavily in his pocket.

Gale was now standing by the table, looking at the man's gaunt body, hip and collarbones jutting out, peppered hair in disarray over the open wounds on his skull where the soldier's sword scraped against the scalp when they lopped off his hair. But the whites of his eyes were still bright against his dark irises.

"Of how inequitable my treatment is compared to the others that have surely died here. And for that, I owe you my gratitude, for whatever it is worth to you, milord," he coughed out, the rasp stabbing at his chest.

And Gale felt more wretched for setting the snare that caught this innocent man and for leading him here. The vial shook as he shifted in his feet.

"Are you going to tell me what is in the vial?"

"How did you know of it?"

"You had been muttering in your sleep, milord."

Gale fished the vial out of his coat pocket. The dark, satiny liquid swayed against the small vial. Uncorking the stopper, the acrid fume wafted and replaced the stench of feces.

"My mother imparted me with this. Back in my kingdom, it's known as Tears of the Nightlock. One drop and you will be greeting your ancestors the following moment you open your eyes in the next world."

The man regarded the vial longingly.

"Will that be the final mercy you bestow on me, child?"

Gale looked at the prisoner's dark eyes, deep pools of pain and hope.

"Yes, but only if you yield more information about your nation that has been attacking us."

And the old man laughed, but one that had no mirth and his bitterness floated into the air.

"What does an inconsequential man like me who lives near the edge of our kingdom know of anything that might be of use to the great nation of Panem? I had already told you, our Queen Regent took our sons to toil for her war a year ago. That's the extent of my knowledge regarding her conquests," the man spat out virulently.

Gale had a decision to make but the man spoke again.

"But I do have one more to offer, a parting gift to my executioner and savior. Let your leaders do with it as they please. Our Queen Regent was not born to lead but she sits on our throne nevertheless. Not her army you must beware but her tenacity and ambition. What are we, after all, but ambitious animals? That you already should know, working for the people above you. Is that of consequence enough for you milord?"

Gale nodded stiffly, and his hands shook with the despair eating him inside over the actions he had done. The black liquid dropped into the man's waiting lip, and more followed, because of his shaking hands, before Gale tipped the vial and corked it.

He heard footsteps clanking down the stone stairs and he fished the smooth pebble at the base of the funnel, deftly hiding it in his pocket along with the Nightlock vial.

The man lay dead on the table as Minister Crane came into view and walked up to them.

"What progress, young lord?"

"I regret to inform you that the man has died, Minister."

Seneca Crane's tired, bloodshot eyes regarded him cruelly.

"Is that so? When did he pass? Did he give up anything towards the end of his worthless existence?"

"I had only known now, but his body has not gone rigid yet. He died in his sleep."

Gale would share the last words of the man not with Minister Crane but with Lord Abernathy.

The Minister looked towards the old man's face, still and wrinkly in death. His forehead creased as his finger moved towards the man's mouth where it picked a dark drop leaking from the corner.

Minister Crane pulled it up towards his nose as Gale met his harsh gaze defiantly. He flicked the drop away with a precise arc from his wrist. The smile he gave Gale reflected anything but amity.

"My dear, idealistic Lord Hawthorne, let me enlighten you on how the Chancellor deals with treasonous acts. If you would be so kind as to follow me, it shan't be too hard compared to my previous orders."

The Minister swiftly turned on his heel and marched towards the heavily bolted wooden door to their left. He fished out a large key to unlock it and at once, a severely unpleasant smell assaulted Gale's nose.

He followed Minister Crane into another musty but better lit chamber where he saw a metallic bull standing in the middle, a low fire burning out beneath it. There were two guards present, flanking the ominous animal.

"This here renders a death unlike your precious Nightlock," the Minister, standing by the bull, indicated with a flourish of his arm. One of the guards cranked a lever and the bull opened its wide cavity. A man with roasted, blistered skin slumped out of the bull.

Minister Crane beckoned him towards the victim and they stood near its head. Gale wanted to close his eyes from the gruesome sight.

"Ah, I believe our victim pulled all his hair out as he burned inside," added the Minister conversationally.

Gale suppressed the bilious feeling the sight before him inspired on his stomach. He could see the nails that had detached from the fingers and embedded themselves on the scalp in anguish.

Minister Crane sidled up to him.

"You are most fortunate, my Lord Hawthorne, that your title and connections to your Grand Duke bestows you another chance to serve the nation well. This bull here is but one of many ingenious ways the Chancellor devised to keep his subordinates in line. If this does not strike fear in you yet, there is another more potent but simpler method."

And he felt Minister Crane cup his groin viciously.

"A life of sterility rendered by the swift swing of the sword might be your preference should you disobey orders once more" he whispered savagely before releasing Gale.

"You may take your leave, Lord Hawthorne."

Disgusted, Gale bowed stiffly before heading towards the stairs. He needed air, copious amounts of it, to dispel the stench of human remains that had permeated his lungs as well as the reek of fear that had taken over his mind.

* * *

The creamy envelope weighed heavily in Peeta's hands.

The Captain had knocked on the door to his room to deliver the parcel. He had an idea what it would be, but he opened the envelope and pulled out the stiff card inside.

It was an invitation to the Unification Ball, the celebration of their nation over the birth of Panem at the end of the Dynasty of the Warring Kings.

It was addressed to him and indicated that he could bring a companion, an escort, as they referred. The ball would be in a fortnight.

He looked to the bed where Katniss lay on her side, still awake and staring at the mountains outside the open window.

After retrieving the pearl, after deciding their next stop to be the Hanging Castles in the Fourth Kingdom, Peeta also opted to stay here for a few more days so the retinue, as well as he and Katniss, could rest. They also needed time to replenish their supplies and the open invitation of King Helios to use the Hanging Castles had been most opportune for them to use. He had already written to the King his gratitude.

Peeta walked to the bed but placed the invitation on his study before resuming his sitting position from before. Katniss had forgiven him, hence her presence in his room, although he presumed this to be motivated more by her fear of being alone. Still, he could not complain. They mutually benefited from the sleeping arrangement.

He was about to close his eyes when Katniss muttered something.

"That can't be terribly comfortable, can it Peeta?"

He opened an eye to peek down at her.

"Which one?"

"Sitting while sleeping?"

He smiled. "I will be fine. Please do not worry yourself over the comfort of my back."

"Why don't you lie down?" she squeaked out and he almost did not hear it.

"Would you like me to?"

"I asked you, didn't I?"

Peeta chuckled softly. "If you are certain then."

And he lied down on the bed, his back praising him for the relief the soft mattress offered.

"Better?" Katniss asked.

"Yes, thank you."

But what he did not expect was Katniss scooting closer to his side and the ease with which his arm closed around her. She rested her head on his chest and he stroked her soft hair, seeing if this gesture would calm the anxiety the invitation brought.

It would only be a ball anyways, he thought. Afterwards, they can resume their quest for the third pearl before they went back home to search for clues for the last one.

He looked down and saw Katniss sleeping. Peeta placed a soft kiss on her forehead, partly in relief that the events yesterday day were over. But the Unification Ball crept back to his mind.

There would be no question of non-attendance. The Chancellor expected the people bestowed with the honor of invitation to be present. Everyone would be there: his brother, their advisors, the monarchs's representatives, the ministers, the Council, and of course, the Chancellor.

He sighed heavily and thought of all the things he needed to prepare Katniss for, the names and positions within the government she needed to be familiar with, the mannerisms she had to adapt in order to pass for a noble. All the thinking sparked another mild thumping in his temple.

After a while, his anxiety sent him off to that in-between of sleeping and waking where the heady scent of Katniss's hair, those voluptuous notes of bergamot oranges, nectarines, and cedar woods that reminded him of his mother's gardens, mixed with visions in his head about the Unification Ball.

He struggled to fight sleep. All Peeta could think of was when he enters the ball, enters the viper's pit as he recalled his eldest brother refer to the Capitol with sarcastic fondness, which ones smiling back at him and shaking his hand convivially would have ordered the death of his beloved brother.

He held Katniss closer.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

And we're off to a ball in the next chapter! Can't have a story with princes, palaces, and nobles without having a ball, eh?

Again, thank you so much for reading! Please do let me know your thoughts; it's always a joy to know what my precious readers think. My thanks also go out to those who had reviewed, placed this in their alert list, and listed this as their favorite. You guys are awesome! :D

And now, my side notes:

The ancient Roman god called Janus inspired the deity Teirnon I used earlier for the temple. Janus, a dual-faced god, was the god of beginnings and presided all that is double-edged in life.

The blueprint of the temple where Katniss and Peeta found the pearl is based on the Ta Phrom and Bayon temples in Cambodia.

In terms of government, for my fictional nation of Panem, I retained a modern government's three functions, namely the legislative, executive, and judiciary, but played with its overseers. In this story, the legislative branch, which produces the laws, is handled by the Council of monarchs from the twelve kingdoms as well as an elected parliament; the executive branch, which oversees the enforcement of the laws, is overseen by Chancellor Snow and his cabinet of ministers; and the judiciary, which interprets the laws, is handled by both the Chancellor and the Council.

Once again, The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.

See you soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:**

I'm so sorry for taking so long! I feel like I owe you, dear readers, an explanation. I meant to update sooner but three weeks ago, my right shoulder decided to freeze and I spent a week almost unable to function, much less write. Nothing but intense therapy brought the mobility back and that was the only time I could work on this. I hope you guys understand.

If it's any consolation, this chapter is 95% K/P! I missed them, haha.

On with the show.

* * *

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 8**

**Alternate Title: The End of the Beginning**

They were in the castle's drawing room, all old tapestries, marble statues, and fur rugs, for the afternoon tea and already, Katniss had been itching to get out of her seat.

For the whole week they had been having their "Courtier Lessons," as the Prince put it simply to her one afternoon after they arrived. The purpose of the lessons, Peeta added, was that in order to corroborate the tale they spun about Katniss being Lord Hawthorne's cousin, she needed to be coached in all manners and knowledge befitting their kingdom's nobility.

This afternoon's focus was tea: drinking, pouring, and the merry art of flirtatious conversation that seemed to be present in the idle lives of people who had been living at court.

Katniss held the exquisite porcelain cup daintily with her thumb and forefinger. Its pattern of blooms and wily stems that surrounded its base glimmered with the gold that was used to paint the scene.

Across her, she saw Peeta scrutinizing her every move. He looked magnificent in his rich, velvet doublet of oxblood, trimmed with black fur on his sleeves. His blonde hair was radiant as the sun skimmed past it and into the tray of delicate pastries set on the table. She knew he was assessing her manners. His sharp eyes nowadays missed nothing of her unrefined technique and the scrutiny was making her edgy and thirsty.

Katniss grumbled. She could not drink the scalding tea yet, as steam was still steadily coming up from its liquid depths of floral undertones like the chagrin that had been brewing between them recently over their lessons.

She did the next best thing and she blew on her drink to hasten the cooling process, glancing furtively up at Peeta in time to see his forehead scrunch in annoyance.

"For goodness sakes Katniss, do not blow on your tea. It's such an uncouth habit," he snapped.

She wanted to slam the cup down and bark her displeasure at the Prince, something she had done rather frequently for the past days. The last time she did, which was this morning, it was over the tiny detail of which knife to use for buttering her bread. She did, however, have the presence of mind now to pull her irritation back because if she did not, the Prince was bound to launch into another storm of lessons about manners.

Instead, Katniss flashed him her best courtier smile and that sly, unaffected look in the eye that Peeta first introduced on the very first day of their courtier lessons. She thought it quite disarming then when Peeta used it against her, but now, as she looked across him, her shoulders and thighs stiff from sitting still, she realized what a strain it was on the facial muscles to command them to project the opposite of the very emotion she felt.

Still smiling at Peeta, she gently placed the cup down with a slight, tinkling sound as it touched the porcelain saucer.

Peeta gave a curt nod of approval and gave out his cup, which was empty, so she can now practice pouring.

She took the teapot gingerly with both hands. Again, those hawk eyes were on her, but she has learned, at least, that demure, nonchalant grace ever present in everything the noblewomen did, which she used to pour the dark, steaming liquid into the Prince's cup.

He set his teacup down at the same time Katniss returned the lacquered pot to its place.

She wondered _how _Peeta ever managed to be able to sit still for hours, as he seemed as comfortable now as he did when they first sat down coming from a walk in the gardens that were interspersed with questions about the First Kingdom's royal family.

It was probably practice for when he sits on a throne or somewhere his brother would order him to, she thought.

Then Peeta took his cup and stared at Katniss, as if waiting for her to imitate his actions. When she did, that was the time that Peeta slowly brought the cup to his lips, again looking over at her to see if her form was up to royal par. Then the Prince sipped the tea without complaint. Katniss did the same.

The tea was surprisingly bearable in temperature and the heady, minty, floral flavor tickled her tongue as it silkily glided down her throat.

She mimicked Peeta's movements as he carefully set the cup down again.

_What nonsense_, she thought, all this ceremony and formality over tea! She never really drank tea but Aunt Effie always had a mug with her after dinner, to aid in her digestion, she was told once.

The room was getting stuffy and her legs were starting to cramp, so before Peeta could go into another round of tea-sipping demonstration, Katniss stood up, exasperated.

Peeta stood when she did (it was another silly protocol or something), but when she turned, she heard him clear his throat noisily.

"My lady, you forget something."

Katniss sighed tiredly, loud enough that she was sure the stubborn Prince heard her.

She pulled her shoulders up as she stepped away from the chair and turned once more with her practiced courtier mask.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," she murmured.

Then she swept him a low curtsy, with a graceful bow of the head and one hand over her chest while the other held her skirt over its ornate brocade pattern.

She thought back to the time the Prince introduced her to the curtsy. It was rather funny then when Peeta, in all his manly, princely state, kept demonstrating the subtle nuances that indicated the rank of the person being curtsied. There were all sorts of things to remember: the flick of the wrist, which part of the waist should the torso bend from, how one should lift her head and when should eye contact be established. But the simplest rule for Katniss that she bothered to remember was that the monarchs were entitled to the deepest, most gracious of bows.

She saw Peeta give another nod before saying, "You may take your leave, Lady Everdeen."

Of course, she thought, almost wanting to smack her forehead in frustration as she remembered another lesson. One was not to leave a room until he or she was dismissed from it by the person of the highest rank present. In this case, it was the Prince.

She walked stiffly towards the door, opened it, and slammed it as she went out, like the teenager she hardly ever had the chance to be. They did not get to the conversation part anymore and she did not care.

Katniss knew she would apologize for the door slamming later but it just felt good to let some steam out and not _pretend_ for one moment that she enjoyed sitting upright and waiting for the damned tea to not burn her tongue.

As she walked the narrow corridors with sentries at every corner, she felt the frustration seeping slowly out from her. She needed to learn to reign in her feelings and temper fast because here, she was Lady Katniss Everdeen, and every manner befitting a noble was expected of her, especially since they can set for the Capitol at any day Lord Abernathy summons them forth.

* * *

Katniss went to her room to fetch the generously thick scrolls of genealogy, some more books from Peeta, blankets, pillows, and her fleece cape.

She would be studying outside in the gardens, stretching her legs like a nimbly cat, perfect after all the hours of sitting over tea.

One of the guards opened the heavy wooden door and she was greeted by the sunlight that had been dancing from their grasp for the past days. It was merrily shining down on the flowering shrubs of the gardens. The winds had dropped their temper and were now slowly sweeping through the mountains where the Hanging Castles were perched.

Katniss walked out and settled herself on the farthest wall, spreading the blanket, pillows, books, and scrolls. A few feet to her left was the sheer drop to the gorge below. A tragedy was only prevented by the low trimmed hedges that now drank the sun. As she sat, she faced the tall, stony wall of a tower, the windows like small square buttons on a rough, woolen coat.

She unfurled one scroll to review the Hawthorne family tree, of which she was related through her fictitious mother's side. "Lady Everdeen" was Lady Hazel Hawthorne's first cousin, making her and Gale second cousins. She had to memorize their common great grandmother's family for she knew another test from Peeta was due soon.

She crossed her arms in front of her as she thought of the Prince she left at the drawing room, probably fuming over the tea plus her progress that sauntered between acceptable and embarrassing through the week.

Katniss sensed an edginess about him after the night they arrived. The following afternoon, he sat her down here in the very gardens, carrying some of the books she had now, to tell her of his intentions to coach her for the week regarding the practices and manners of the nobility.

She had yet to agree when Peeta started immediately, commenting on her posture as well as the tone she took when she spoke. They spent the next hour in a granite bench as Peeta had her practice sitting, his hands instructing the fall of her hips and the straightness of her shoulders. Her legs and thighs ached the following day from all the standing and sitting while the Prince droned through the afternoon with the incredibly dull hierarchy of nobles from different kingdoms. Without faces to remember the names by and armed only with their rank and government positions, she had no means to distinguish one lord from another, except when Peeta would add a recent rumor or scandal attached to their names.

He was a different Peeta when they trained.

The Prince, before affectionate and concerned, now had a single-minded focus on whipping her into ladyship.

He gave his touches more freely now, but as a correction to her manners and bore none of his previous affections.

At night, however, they seemed to come across an ungainly, unspoken truce.

Peeta would let her be, all curled up alone in bed while he sat by his study, poring over books in the dim candlelight. She saw the strain on him more at night as he hunched over his table.

Sometimes, she would go to him to see what he was reading or working on (mostly they were lesson plans and charts for her and she wanted to chuck these into the fireplace). She approached him from behind with her arms and buried her sleepy face into the crook of his neck, the muscles all tense from his work. Katniss would ask him to come to bed, now, because it was never as warm without him, especially when it was chilly at night from the winds. Some nights would see her successful and Peeta would accept her invitation, yawning while he walked to the bed. But most of the time, he'd softly kiss her lips, urge her with a small smile to try to sleep, and that he would follow her soon. Katniss would walk towards the cold bed and sleep alone, lightly, until she felt the dip in the mattress from his weight. By then it would have been daybreak.

But the Prince would be up before her in the morning, all ready for a new day of courtier lessons. She once giddily imagined it as princess lessons, but that was before Peeta acted like a drill sergeant.

She sighed and went back to reviewing her scrolls, now focusing on the family trees of the other monarchs.

Thank goodness she was already well versed in the history of Panem and that her table manners were sufficient and only needed a few modifications.

It was in the art of conversation, that flirtatious and witty dance of words that Peeta was a master at, that she had yet to grasp. When they would practice, she would often be at a loss of words on what to reply, often fumbling and blushing over Peeta's playful pronouncements.

There were also the tense moments that colored their week.

They were often in the library or gardens and Peeta once quizzed her on the nobles from the Eleventh Kingdom and she botched it quite badly, interchanging the surnames of the nobles with that from another kingdom, prompting Peeta to loudly propose in giving her homework to study for the night.

That had been the end of her fuse, and Katniss, who had been so irritated those days over her various failures, did not hesitate to hiss back that if he did that, he can sleep in his own room that night.

She expected him to be offended at her retraction but he already had his princely court mask securely fastened that he simply murmured, "If my lady so wishes."

And then he kissed her hand and left her fuming in the library. They traipsed around each other's moods in the following days, testing first if the other was still cross before making a complete approach, before they were back to sleeping in the same bed.

Katniss now focused on memorizing the names of the Seventh Kingdom's royal family and was in the middle of making a pattern of the princesses's names to help her remember (Princess Jo-_ha_-nna, Princess _He_-loise) when she saw Peeta approaching her.

She groaned inwardly at the thought of another test but was puzzled why a few men with lutes and violins followed the Prince.

When Peeta neared her, he swept her up from the blanket, cape falling from her shoulders, and she asked him tersely, "What are we doing?"

With an easy smile, her replied, "Dancing, my lady," and he signaled to the men who were tuning their instruments.

"In the afternoon?"

"Why not? I thought to save the most fun part for last."

She knew he meant it as a sort of peace offering for what he put her through for the week.

Peeta showed her the steps, although earlier in the week they had demonstrations from the court dancers. She felt like one of the characters in the period drama TV shows that Prim was so fond of. She had the dress, the Prince, and the castle. Peeta was more patient now, she thought thankfully. The tension from his face earlier had melted away.

They practiced the lively dances first, with the musicians gamely playing, and she and Peeta clapped, twirled, and dipped their knees or kicked their feet to the beat. Katniss laughed freely for the first time in weeks and felt as if the horrors from before that had hounded them had finally receded in the horizon, that she and her golden prince can begin again, now stronger and wiser, together.

Then they practiced the waltz and the slower dances, a mellow contrast to the lively beat that their thumping hearts and breaths still followed, as the late afternoon sun enveloped the gardens in its rich, soothing light.

Peeta's cheek lightly rested atop of her head as they let their feet be led by the flowing, ebbing notes of the violin.

"We're leaving for the Capitol tomorrow," he said in a low tone.

"So soon?" Katniss asked, lifting her head up from his chest. "I thought we still had a week to go before the Unification Ball?"

"Yes, but it's about a day and a half's journey to the Capitol from here, then we attend the festivities that the Council hosts before the ball."

Katniss nodded slowly and glanced over his shoulder at the musicians, who were discreetly averting their gaze from them.

"Do you think I'm ready?" she whispered, looking up at Peeta.

"You won't throw your shoe at me if I give you a fair assessment?"

Katniss chuckled and nodded again. Peeta held her close once more and tucked her head under his chin before speaking.

"Yes, you're ready. I'm a great mentor after all," to which Katniss rolled her eyes in mirth.

The afternoon settled and their dance slowed more. Katniss did not even notice the absence of the mellifluous music until she realized that she and the Prince, with his arms enclosing her, had been dancing to their own enthralling rhythm. She wished that this moment would loop in itself and never end.

* * *

That night, she knew they could both not sleep. It was perhaps a combination of the effort exerted into packing once again or the anxiety and excitement over the wildcard that was the Unification Ball that barred their minds from fully resting. She knew she would pay for her lack of sleep with lethargy once they were in the Capitol.

Katniss slept on her side, legs curled in, with her head resting on Peeta's outstretched arm. He was behind her in a similar position. His other arm draped across her waist. Their proximity allowed her to feel every breath he exhaled in a tickle down her neck.

"Are you awake, Katniss?"

She nodded then mumbled a yes.

"Couldn't sleep?" She asked.

She heard Peeta yawn. "Obviously," he retorted with a chuckle.

Then his hand began to stroke that dip in her waist and she sighed.

"We can't be in the same room when we're in the Capitol," he said, slowly.

Katniss turned to face him. The moonlight allowed her to see the faint grimace he wore at the prospect of what he just said.

"Can't we sneak?" she whispered hopefully.

Peeta chuckled again, "You'll miss your dashing bedfellow, won't you?"

"You flatter yourself too much, my Prince," she cooed in her teasing courtier voice.

Peeta's eyes blazed mischievously. "Oh I surmise you'd miss this." Then his fingers idly traced shapes on her stomach as he leaned forward and slowly placed delicate kisses along her jaw, purposely avoiding her lips, slowly pushing her so her back was on the bed, and then languidly moving to bestow attention on her neck.

His body hovered over her now as his other arm slipped from under her head to brace him.

The kisses were first soft then grew to be more needy. Katniss's breath hitched when he kissed that sweetly sensitive spot on the hollow of her collarbone. One hand dug into his arm as he released her neck. She inhaled sharply when her clouded mind realized that Peeta's lips were on a trail back up to her own.

Her lips were already parted when they met his, aching in anticipation. Her other hand moved towards his hair, where her nails softly scraped through his scalp. She earned a moan from her Prince as her foot gently brushed upwards against his leg.

He kissed her with such a sweet temperance but underneath, she could feel a rougher need that pushed his tongue to dance with hers a bit more urgently with every passing minute. Despite the chill in the air, Katniss felt the birth of a heat in her. It swirled in her belly, and before it can consume her, she pulled her lips back, slightly swollen from Peeta's attention.

She gathered what was left of her wits, crumpled Peeta's shirt in her palm, and groaned, "Why only tonight? You're too cruel to tease me like this."

Peeta sniggered. "Shall we desist then?"

Katniss hadn't fully shook her head when Peeta's lips crashed down to her again, the Prince reading something unguarded from her eyes.

It was liberating to be giving in to such a warm delight. Slowly, her mind was not accepting any other feeling but Peeta's touch. Her skin was waking to his, every nerve sparkling like a fiery fountain as unknown places were laid before them to be mapped out in caresses.

His lips were soft, exactly as she imagined them to be. They were addicting and she drank from him in heady wonder, absent any rational thought as his hand gripped one side of her hip tightly.

He was starting to pull back but she followed him, sought him until she straddled him and he was seated in a mess of their blankets as his tongue continued its assault on her desire.

It was breathtaking that he knew what she wanted, what she needed, if it were a deepening of the kiss by tilting her head with his hand or an errant, mischievous stroke up her thigh that earned him a moan, her silken gown adding a sweet contrast to his warmth.

He also knew when she needed more air, so with a slight nip to her trembling lower lip, Peeta pulled back this time with a smirk dancing in his eyes.

She would get him for doing this to her, Katniss thought, as she recovered her breath.

Holding his gaze steadily, she smiled playfully, tracing slowly with her finger his jaw, neck, chest, stomach, until her hand rested where his shirt met his trousers. Peeta looked down at her hand then back up at her again, and she wore a smug look as his eyes flashed with amusement, an eagerness, but also a hint of shyness and a delicious curiosity.

Katniss held his gaze, long enough for him to wonder if she would pursue a new path for them that night. Her forefinger was flitting playfully, dangerously close to top of his trousers

Then she snatched her hand back as she arched against him to coquettishly whisper in his ear, "Yes, that's too bad we won't be sharing rooms anymore," before setting herself back on the pillow to watch his reaction.

Peeta gave her a tolerant look, not allowing her an easy victory by conceding through a groan at the taunt.

He hovered over her again but she pushed him onto his back and rested her cheek against his chest as she looked up to him again, his fingers playing with her hair through strokes and random twirls.

He may be a Prince, but he was surely a man first, and the effect they had on each other translated to a heady rein of power they can both use to their advantage.

Katniss sighed and offered a happy middle ground before sleep claimed her.

"Perhaps the carriage ride will be more fun now."

* * *

It was dusk again when Prince Peeta opened his eyes. He looked out the window, to the sun setting between the giant statues of Panem's first Council that lined the vast avenue leading to the Capitol's Plenary Hall.

They had entered the main gate, instead of the northern one that was nearer the mansions where the Council members resided. The carriage wound through the streets and buildings as they headed towards the manor. The city was changing itself as it prepared for the Unification Ball. Walls were being painted and roads were being scrubbed.

As they turned another corner, he felt Katniss snuggling closer to him, her head resting against his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head affectionately before looking out again.

Then the carriage halted in front of the Twelfth Kingdom's manor.

The last time Peeta had been here was during the Unification Ball the year before the Queen, his beloved mother, passed away.

He helped Katniss out of the carriage and asked one of the chambermaids waiting by the door to escort her to her room. He was approached by one of his brother's Privy Gentlemen that Lord Abernathy and Prince Aldran would be working late tonight, for the whole week ahead would be dedicated to the festivities and no work would be done.

Peeta ate a quiet dinner in his room and tried to sleep after he composed a report about their quest for the Mockingjay's pearls.

Sleep evaded him, just as it had for the past week. It was a pity that he did not have Katniss in bed. Her changing expressions as she slept provided an amusing sight for him as he tried to sleep.

It felt only a few hours of rest, but it was enough, as the scuttle of the servants in his room to tend to the fire and clear the cold plates and dishes awoke him in the morning.

After he cleaned and dressed, he went to the dining hall to break his fast with the others, and he saw that he was the last to arrive.

Lord Abernathy sat at the head of the table, with his brother to the prickly lord's left and Katniss at his right. He noted with slight pride that Katniss remembered their lessons on posture as she sat with not a curvature to her spine. Peeta took his seat beside Katniss and filled his plate.

The lack of sleep made him quite surly and prone to irascible conclusions. He just remembered how annoying it was to eat breakfast with his brother. Aldran always pushed the knife with just a bit more force so the blade made an ear-splitting noise as it sliced through the griddlecakes. And the way he just had to turn his plate so he could systematically eat the fruit-filled discs always bristled against him.

Lord Abernathy punctured the silence with more talk on the details of their work, when Peeta wondered aloud,

"When is Aldran's betrothal to be announced?"

Lord Abernathy turned his head as he replied, "It is already known by a few but the formal announcement will be at the Unification Ball."

Peeta chuckled and turned to his brother, shaking his head, "I still could not wrap my head around the fact that you're about to be _married._"

"Well it most certainly is not a marriage of love—"

"For now" Aldran insisted, to which Lord Abernathy rolled his eyes and continued.

"—But one for both kings's alliance. And you would do well to remember it. Much is to be borne from this union."

"When is the wedding?" Asked Peeta as he reached over to slice some cheese.

"Your father wishes it to happen in three lunar months."

"Why such haste?"

Lord Abernathy waited for the servants to exit the room before he began again, in a lower tone.

"Because we need to move against the Chancellor soon. There have been reports that he is also set to move against his adversaries. You both know how he feels about your father."

And the fruit of those plots, Peeta remembered, was that one of his brothers now lay in their family crypt.

He took a gulp of the tangy citrus juice from his goblet and swallowed the shudders that went through him. Katniss sat silent beside him, twisting and fiddling with her bangle.

"And what about me?" She murmured.

Lord Abernathy's eyes regarded the girl as though remembering that she was with them.

"The king has not decided yet, but if you are eager, then do your best pretending to be Lord Hawthorne's cousin. Are you ready to masquerade as a noblewoman, my lady?"

When Katniss did not answer immediately, Peeta slyly clamped his left hand onto Katniss's thigh. He felt her jolt and sit straighter.

"Well, girl?"

Katniss nodded then spoke, "Prince Peeta has been most kind to impart his knowledge on the happy maners of the nobility," she said breezily.

"Good. And what of your knowledge of our history, the genealogy of the kingdoms, the laws, and heraldry?"

Peeta squeezed her thighs again and Katniss squeaked, "Sufficient enough that I can carry on a conversation."

When Lord Abernathy nodded curtly, Peeta withdrew his hand and returned to finish his meal.

"You still need refining, Lady Everdeen, and the two princes would tutor you this morning. There's a boat race tomorrow, a garden party the next day, and many other diversions for the guests and I need you to be prepared."

And with that Lord Abernathy stood up and asked him for his report about their quest for the pearls. He accompanied the nobleman while he heard his brother escort Katniss out into the gardens for another round of courtier lessons.

* * *

When he returned from giving his report to Lord Abernathy, he found the two by the garden fountain, with Katniss laughing and sitting by its edge and Aldran enacting with the use of a fan.

"Ah there he is," his brother exclaimed, "He's much better at this than I am."

Aldran approached him, gave him the fan trimmed with black feathers, and pulled him into a one-armed hug as though he were five. "Peeta here, my lady, is used to playing the role of a female," which earned another round of laughter from Katniss and a scowl from himself.

"You see, when we were younger, he always hid when it was time for a haircut, so his curls grew long. When we played rescue the damsel from the dragon, Matthis, being the eldest, would always be the knight, I would always be the dragon, and Peeta, with his fanciful curls and a borrowed hood from mother, would be the damsel."

Peeta rolled his eyes but indeed remembered playing by their mother's villa, with a sturdy oak which he would climb as his "tower," with Aldran prowling the grounds below, and Matthis charging along with his wooden sword.

"Now, I think Lady Katniss is in need of a demonstration on how to successfully maneuver oneself to safety in a tricky situation," his brother said, walking to stand opposite him, with Katniss sitting in the middle.

His brother bowed and said "Lady Petra."

Peeta opened the fan expertly, earning another round of chortle from Katniss, which turned to a howl of laughter as he positioned the fan by his face and batted his eyes.

"Might I remind you, Katniss, that I am embarrassing myself for your sake, so you can show a bit of gratitude," he bit out playfully.

"Lady Petra," his brother started, and Katniss snorted again.

"You look breathtaking even in the darkest of blacks. I have been in the sun all morning and I am only dazzled now."

"I am flushed by your attentions, my Prince," He answered back.

"Will the lady submit to giving me her favor to be worn under my armor when I joust tomorrow?"

"I had already given my favor to another knight, my Prince," Peeta deliberately added, and his brother latched on and turned to Katniss.

"Now, my lady, did you catch what Lady 'Petra' said? She should have not been as blunt in turning me, a Prince above all else, away in a favor of a lowly knight."

"So how should Lady 'Petra' have done it then?" Asked Katniss quizzically. Peeta responded.

"There are options on how to play this out. I could have said: 'My favors are never easily given, my Prince. Perhaps I can offer a bet of gold and my blessing first, before we talk of something as intimate as favors' which diverts the conversation to another route."

Then his brother quietly added, and Katnss turned her head towards him,"What you have to remember, my lady, is that you can never appear dull or flustered. Keep an alluring smile about you and always give a leveled gaze to the one you are speaking to. Your posture also communicates a great deal. A lift of the chin marks the difference between the dominant person in the conversation and the one who would follow."

The morning breezed past with more coaching from them. He saw Katniss absorbing everything, the lessons on how to manipulate words, how to give a glance that said one was unstoppably charming, and how to tread affairs with an unending skill of constant flirtatiousness that at once meant everything and nothing.

Already he can see a veneer affixing itself onto her expression, and he was sure another lay beneath, and another, as the lessons went by. Peeta was undecided whether he preferred Katniss to be schooled in such flattering manners or to remain as herself, pure yet defenseless against the quick tongues of those in court.

* * *

The past days flew by in a blur of jousting, archery competitions, garden parties, and boat races. The Master of Revels held nothing back to entertain the guests. There was the betting and flirting, the merrymaking and empty conversations, that was always present in the affairs.

And now, the ball was to commence in a few hours and the three men were relegated to the manor's ornate drawing room after their light meal.

Peeta saw, with a turn of his head, Lord Abernathy nursing his flask of liquor as he sat on a plush chaise. Festivities and conviviality were never his strong suit.

His brother stood beside him in the balcony, with the sun slowly retreating and leaving everything behind in a muted, golden light. They were already dressed for the ball. Aldran and Lord Abernathy waited for their carriage while he waited for Katniss, who was getting dressed in her room. The Capitol's center, in the distance, was still tranquil, but the palpable energy for tonight's revelry burned underneath.

"I never got to ask you how you've been doing here." said Peeta, as his brother turned his face to him with a wry smile.

"Well enough, I suppose. Although it always makes me wonder how Matthis flourished in it. I still sometimes feel that I know completely nothing when the debates for the policies start."

Then a shout from within the room interrupted them. "You don't know nothing, you were only too busy with your whining to use it when you came here," supplied Lord Abernathy.

"He's my biggest supporter," chimed Aldran with a roll of his eyes.

Lord Abernathy approached them with two goblets filled with wine. "You both will need it, trust me," and he went back to his chaise.

Peeta saw his brother drink the wine quickly.

"Are you certain you want to push through with the betrothal?"

"Princess Cashmere is a fine princess, I am sure I'll be as happy with her as I'll be with any other woman whose kingdom my king needs an alliance with."

Peeta drank from his goblet when his brother spoke again. "And what about you? It's not too late for father to arrange another betrothal again. And since there are only two of us left, it may even be someone from outside the kingdom to forge more of those _happy_ alliances."

Peeta did not reply and instead looked down to the sleeve of his doublet. He was not thinking of a foreign princess. His brother sensed this.

"It's out of our hands Peeta. Father let you break off the one before but I highly doubt he will allow you again. You have a duty," his brother stressed, looking at him intently.

He met Aldran's gaze, "I know."

"Perhaps there'll be someone there tonight, you never know. And Lord Abernathy's sharp eyes can scout the ball for you."

Then a servant appeared to announce that their carriage has arrived.

He saw their father's trusted friend stand up wobbly and Aldran rushed forward to help him, but not before turning back to Peeta with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

"But I can understand why you would not want anyone else though. And should the time come, I can speak to father."

* * *

Katniss took in the first labored breath as the stomacher of her dress was pulled tighter by one of the chambermaids. She gripped the post of the bed as the laces and the boned foundations shaped her waist.

Despite the discomfort, she marveled at the exquisiteness of the dress that Lady Portia had sent, an icy green frock with seed pearls that skimmed her wrists and glass beads that congregated at her waist before bursting outwards from the bodice. It was cut from fine silk, embroidered with satin threads at the hem, and with a flowering petticoat. Her locket rested delicately on her chest and the bangle was concealed by her sleeve.

As she examined herself in the tall looking glass beside the bed, she thought wryly that the only benefit of the tight stomacher was that it pushed her breasts suggestively against her chest, making them seem bigger.

Another maid approached her with a pot of rouge. The thick cream made her cheeks bloom and her lips flush as though she suckled on a thousand berries. She closed her eyes as another maid applied a thin line above her lashes. They made her eyes appear wider and her lashes thicker.

Katniss opened a small box laid on the bed which contained her jewelry for the night. She wore the earrings that were like drops of shining, golden tears while another set of hands weaved a delicate net of rubies onto her hair.

She sighed again when she faced the mirror. She had never worn such splendor and for a moment, she wanted to forget the dangerous game she was in and simply enjoy the feeling of going to a ball with a boy she had been sharing her bed with.

Prom was never like this, she thought amusingly.

The chambermaids bowed and exited through a side door, carrying with them the big boxes that held the other dresses that she did not choose.

She heard the door open and saw Peeta walking towards her, looking resplendent in his patterned satin doublet, with slashes that revealed his velvet shirt underneath, and sewn with jewels that befitted his princely stature. A cape hung over his left shoulder and moved as he stood behind her, looking at her through the mirror. His fingers traced her shoulder agonizingly slow and she turned her head to him.

He deftly captured her chin and took her mouth into his. It was a needy kiss that made her feel many things at once: desire, hunger, and ache, and she felt them more intensely as his arm circled her waist to pull her closer.

When they parted, Peeta brushed his lips to her temple and murmured, "The stars would burst with envy in your presence tonight, my lady."

That burning feeling in her belly erupted at his compliment. She swallowed her nervousness as the Prince tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her out the door and into the stately hall of the manor.

"Where are your brother and Lord Abernathy?"

"They were needed much earlier for the ceremonies. We are fortunate enough to not be so important so we could idly proceed as we pleased," Peeta replied as they went out the double doors and down the steps to the waiting carriage.

The sun had just set and the sky was ablaze in a blend of amethyst and tangerine. They could hear the distant, feverish sounds of the city's revelries.

They passed the bridge that separated the manors of the monarchs from most of the Capitol. The Chancellor's mansion was also bedecked in lights as they passed it.

All over the Capitol, whether in narrow side streets or broad boulevards, lanterns abound and magnificent cloths draped the buildings. The thoroughfares were teeming with the nearly riotous jubilation from the revelers that was seeping into her. She glanced at her Prince and the festivities spellbound him too. Peeta quietly added, as they passed a particularly loud group of people, that most of the merrymakers this evening came from all over their nation to celebrate the Treaty of Unification. Though they were not to be at the Unification Ball, they held their own celebration at the Capitol's vast square.

Their carriage turned towards the gate and Katniss knew this was the site of the ball.

The smooth road was lined with fountains of sparkling fire and light leading to the spectacular edifice that dwarfed the line of carriages that deposited its riders.

She and Peeta alighted in front of the massive door and the music from the ball could already be heard.

There were many more still arriving at the ball, ladies in their resplendent gowns and noblemen in their proud gait. Most of them bowed towards Peeta in respect.

They went up the carpeted steps and into the balcony that overlooked the grand ballroom. It was filled with all the people whose names Katniss memorized for the past week. The glass ceiling allowed the stars to shine down like diamonds while the light from a thousand candles nesting in the great chandeliers suffused the room in a luminescence that complimented the creamiest of embroidered velvet that padded the walls. The center of the ballroom was overflowing with circling partners clothed in lace and brocade and charmeuse while others idled at the sides where tables were heaped with the most delicate and luscious foods that could be eaten with one bite.

"Ready, Katniss?" Peeta asked before they descended the stairs. She smiled at him even though the air was thrumming with the noble vivacity that suddenly made her shy.

Peeta sensed her trepidation and he squeezed her hand in assurance as they descended the stairs. Her other hand ran along the banister enrobed in silk and laden with emeralds and garnets.

Once they reached the bottom, she looked around the cavernous, elongated room. Her stomach sank as the names and descriptions she memorized fit none of the faces that glanced her way.

Before she could tug on Peeta's arm for a quick refresher course, one of Aldran's Privy Gentlemen approached them.

"My brother needs me now, Katniss, but I will be back. Save a dance for me," he said, while taking her hand in both of his and kissing it gently. Then he disappeared into the throng of nobles before she could protest to being left behind.

_Great!_ She thought, bristling. A servant passed her with a tray of amber liquid and she took a glass.

She tasted it first and it was a sweet, smooth liqueur. The servant told her it was made from plums. She tipped the glass back and searched for another servant to take her empty goblet.

She moved through the crowd, passing by the tables of food and snatching quick bites of pheasant and mushroom tarts, small cakes of the lightest sponge topped with sweetened cream and spun sugar, and short skewers of grilled meats. She downed two more glasses of the plum liqueur to boost her.

Katniss went back near the center, looking around and feeling as though people were finding faults in her. It was awkward and painful, until she heard a voice call out to her and she whipped to see who it was.

"There you are!" exclaimed a tall man with a smoothly mischievous glint in his eye. His smile was disarming that she was taken aback and suddenly bashful.

Katniss noticed a crest of arms embroidered on his doublet and she had to think fast whether it belonged to the Fourth Kingdom or the Third Kingdom. The man took her hand and bowed as his lips brushed against her knuckles before leading her to the part of the room where the nobles waltzed.

Her courtier lessons kicked in, but she could not help a bite in her tone as she politely asked the man what he was doing.

"Saving you, my lady," he replied in an almost sing-song voice.

"I was unaware I was in need of rescuing," and she subtly tugged her hand from the man's grip.

They reached the dance floor and the man bent forward his head so his lips were by her ear.

"Sugar, I am the only one standing between you and old Lord Woof over there—"

Tilting her chin towards an old man with a toothy, sickening grin,

"—who has been eyeing your posterior most lasciviously since we started walking. Shall I allow him to cut in if he desires?"

Katniss's head swiveled once more to the old man and she shook her head at the younger one who was staring down at her.

They positioned their arms as the orchestra strummed the beginnings of a lively waltz and he spun her away from their starting place, passing other couples so fast that she was flustered when they slowed a good distance away from Lord Woof, if that was even his real name.

The man spoke again in a high tone, "Thank you Prince Finnick," he said, chiding her. He stared at her, as though waiting for her to mimic him, but when she didn't, he rolled his eyes instead and spoke in his normal voice.

"You are graciously welcome my lady, and it was not at all a feat on my part to locate you since your Prince Peeta did not bother to give me a more detailed description."

"How did you know me then?" Katniss asked as she was twirled.

"We are very adept at smelling who are the new ones. They're rank with fear and stand near the tables of food. Since I am feeling magnanimous tonight and your Prince is a dear friend, I shall introduce you to the people you should avoid for the evening, after you give me your sweet name that your Prince forgot as well."

"Lady Katniss Everdeen, my Prince, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance," she murmured demurely.

"Lady Everdeen, I am delighted. Although I must boldly say that I am not familiar with your name."

"I am a cousin of Lord Hawthorne, my Prince, and it is only my first year at court. You humble me with your attention."

Prince Finnick smiled radiantly at her before leading her to the right side of the room where she saw a man with the whitest of hair and a sallow complexion, who viewed his companions with a calculated and cold stare that was not befitting a night of revelry. She had an idea who this person may be.

"Ah you are a most keen observer, my lady, homing in on the one person you should never trifle with," Prince Finnick said as he followed her gaze.

"That is the Chancellor Coriolanus Snow of course, and his wife Lady Virgilia. Their son, Lord Cato, is that beast of a boy walking towards them."

Katniss indeed saw a monstrous boy and the arrogance that he must have taken from his mother.

"And over there, my lady, is your Lord Abernathy talking to Minister Seneca Crane," Prince Finnick indicated with a slight nod of his head. She saw Lord Abernathy take a swig from his flask as Minister Crane, a robust man with a cunning countenance, laughed.

The music slowly ended and they bowed to each other. Prince Finnick looked over her shoulder and smiled at someone. "And here's another one," he quietly supplied.

Katniss turned and saw a man approaching them, who at first seemed to have a decadent, vapid air to himself with his outlandish doublet. But she looked at his eyes and they were as sharp as the Chancellor's.

"Minister Heavensbee, may I introduce the Lady Katniss Everdeen from the Twelfth Kingdom."

Minister Heavensbee graciously smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. "Welcome to the Capitol, Lady Everdeen. I hope you are enjoying the festivities."

"I am delighted to be here where the bounty is unceasing," she replied diffidently with a lowering of her lashes.

"Might I have the next dance with the lady?" He inquired after Prince Finnick, who gestured amiably to the minister and left, but not before winking at Katniss.

Their dance was polite and he kept a distance from her.

"I had never seen you before my lady, in the previous festivities. Is this your first time in the Capitol?"

"Yes Minister."

"Are you escorted by someone?"

"By Prince Peeta, your honor."

"And how did you come to know the prince?"

"My cousin, Lord Hawthorne, serves as a Privy Gentleman to Prince Aldran."

Minister Heavensbee steered them to the middle of the ballroom.

"What a happy coincidence that I have met you then, my lady, for I am searching for someone in the Twelfth Kingdom, and with your proximity to the Privy Chamber and the princes, you may be able to help me."

"I will gladly offer any assistance I can."

Minister Heavensbee beamed at her.

"Very well then, I am looking for a weed in court, my lady."

Katniss's eyebrows furrowed a little.

"A weed, Minister?"

"Yes, one that seemingly popped out of the grounds whilst the moon shined, as though it dropped from thin air."

"Oh there are many of those at court Minister, particularly when they smell a newly minted noble. Widows increase in number when the king doles out the lands to the younger gentry."

And Minister Heavensbee barked out a laugh.

"Such a clever, clever girl. But I am looking for a special kind of weed. A weed that has never been seen before that it's almost _legendary_ how that weed appeared. Would you know of anything, my lady?" he added patronizingly, looking down beadily at her locket.

Katniss's chin bowed as her eyes darted away from the Minister's uncomfortable stare for a second. His grip on her waist was now as appealing to her as a slug's trail of slime. The music was nowhere near its end.

But then she heard the sweet voice of her savior.

"May I cut in, Minister Heavensbee?"

She turned her head to see Prince Peeta smiling at them and she exhaled a sigh.

"Oh you interrupted a most delicious moment I had been enjoying with Lady Everdeen! But she is a charming lady and I can hardly stop the tide of attention bearing down on her."

Minister Heavensbee then acquiesced, but not before giving Katniss another calculating glance, a glance that sent an icy block down her spine.

"My apologies, my lady, I did not mean to be away from you for too long," Peeta said as he resumed the position that the Minister held before.

"Is your brother doing well?"

"Yes, but he'll need me again for the announcement. If Prince Finnick had not alerted me to your troubles, I would not be enjoying this happy dance with you."

Katniss continued to stare tersely over Peeta's shoulder. She already owed Prince Finnick twice and he was still thankless. She saw Minister Heavensbee walk towards Minister Crane and her jaw clenched.

"Smile, Katniss," Peeta whispered. "Remember your mask. Whatever troubles you can be discussed in the morrow."

"Can't I come with you later, after the dance?" She pleaded.

"It would seem most odd, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

Katniss grimaced before smiling widely again.

The music ended, too soon as Peeta's presence had begun to relax her, and around them, the other couples clapped politely after they bowed to their partners.

"You need not worry, Katniss, I will be leaving you in capable hands," and he turned her and she could not help another sigh of relief.

Her _cousin_, tall and proud, moved towards them.

"I'll see you after the announcement. I'm still expecting that dance," said Peeta as he dropped a kiss to her exposed shoulder before moving away to the direction he came.

Then Gale stood in front of her, an eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at his lip, resplendent in an attire similar to Peeta with a cape of heavy, embroidered fabric.

She bowed to Gale.

"I see someone has taught you well, cousin," he smarmed as he placed a hand at her waist as the music flowed once more.

Katniss chuckled and she felt her body relax more in the presence of a friend.

She looked at Gale and remembered his face to be fuller and without some faint lines to his eyes. She would look like that too, drained and exhausted, if she continued with this masquerade.

"And your happy manners have been most unaffected by whatever troubles brought shadows to your eyes, my lord," she shot back.

Gale smirked again.

"How have you been, Katniss?" Gale asked as he pulled her back smoothly before an enthusiastic gentleman knocked her to the side.

She gave him a weighted look. He helped her.

"Allow me to break my question then to manageable chunks. How are you and the Prince?"

She blushed.

"Ah, not too studied yet in the graces of elevated rank, I see."

"I'm learning," she grumbled out. "I've only had a week, you know."

"And I must congratulate you for you have gone far in your pursuits. We can test it now, though," and he turned her so her gaze now fell to where Gale's was moments ago. Peeta was there, and so was another blonde she did not care to see.

"Judging by your scowl, I believe you have been acquainted already with Lady Delilah Cartwright."

She could feel him observe her closely. Katniss looked at the pair in the distance and scowled some more as two other ladies in fine dresses joined them.

"Yes, during the garden parties. Now who are they?" She tugged Gale's arm so they turned and was back to their previous position.

"That is Princess Johanna and Princess Antigone. Seventh and Third Kingdoms," he added in a lower tone.

Her scowl deepened.

"It's no cause for concern Katniss, they must be just catching up. Smile."

She must have looked unconvinced for Gale added, "If it's any consolation to you, I know the princesses are to be betrothed to other people while, by merit of being my cousin, you hold a higher rank than Lady Cartwright."

"Really? How so?"

"You are forty second in line to the throne while Lady Cartwright is sixty fifth."

She snapped her head back and laughed. "What a comfort," Katniss snorted.

When the dance ended, Gale led them to the side of the ballroom where the food and libations flowed freely.

Her feet ached from spinning and the muscles on her arms quivered with exertion. There were plush seats that lined the wall. She sat in one while she had Gale get them food. A servant paused and she took and drank another goblet of the plum liqueur.

She was about to exhale in relief and rub her heel when a shadow paused in front of her.

Katniss looked up to see a drunken man leering down at her.

_Ugh_, she groaned.

He would have been handsome if it not for the smell of intoxication that seeped from his pores, as well as the disheveled mop of blonde hair that did not seem recently washed. The doublet, while made from fine, silver velvet, was stained in several places with drops of wine.

She had on her practiced smile as she asked the stranger if he was all right. He ignored her and sat next to her, belching loudly.

His heavy arm draped around her and squeezed her shoulder tightly as she was dragged closer, earning a yelp from Katniss and the stare of the people around them.

"You're pretty," he breathed, and that stale smell of liquor assaulted her nose.

Katniss tried to inch away but the man's grip was firm. She looked around for Gale but he was nowhere in sight.

"It's too early in the ball to be so inebriated Prince Gloss," chimed a man to her left, who rescued her for the third time. She swiveled her head to see the charming green eyes of Prince Finnick sparkling at her in amusement.

With a swift grip and pull, Prince Finnick hauled the drunken Prince Gloss to his feet. She saw Gale approaching them, carrying a small plate of food and a flute of a bubbly, rosy liquid.

"Let me take that from you Lord Hawthorne," and Prince Finnick set the plates and flute down on the low table and pushed Prince Gloss to Gale. "You shall have the merry task of delivering him to Princess Cashmere. I think the announcement will happen soon and I still owed her gold from our last game of cards so she won't be happy to see me tonight."

Gale did not look pleased but he could not disobey the request of a prince. He reluctantly dragged the drunken prince through the space where the people who had been eyeing the scene parted. Katniss caught the eye of Lord Abernathy who had been looking at the scene with mild interest.

"Trouble buzzes around you often, doesn't it Lady Katniss?"

"Thank you Prince Finnick," Katniss simpered, ignoring his jibe. She curtsied to him, left with the plate of food, and walked towards the glass doors at the end of the room.

It opened to a sweeping balcony the shape of the moon in half its phase.

The night breeze and the sudden muffling of the ball's music were refreshing. Below, Katniss saw people milling about the gardens, illuminated by the pale moonlight and the lanterns.

She had not realized how famished she was until she set the plate of food in front of her in the balustrade and took a bite out of the savory tarts. She shrugged her shoulders that had been the most tense as she navigated the ball tonight. Her muscles were stiff and they protested the stretching motions. She was also starting to get a headache and her jaws were in discomfort from smiling too much. It was a relief to let her features fall where they wanted and not raise them to a position she needed.

Katniss was massaging her jaw when felt a warm cape drape her shoulders. She was ready to give her balmy thanks to Peeta when she was met with Gale's quizzical face. Her smile dropped, and it prompted a snigger from the nobleman.

"Shall I retract my chivalrous gesture then and fetch the prince for you instead?"

Katniss took the cape and secured it more snuggly against her as a mild gust of wind blew.

Gale sighed as he handed her a goblet of the fizzing liqueur. "Your face displays too much of your emotions. I sometimes wonder how you can manage to lie."

"So I've been told," she said as she drank, the liquid settling warmly in her stomach along with the others she had consumed.

"This plum liqueur is very good!" Katniss exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, reaching for his own goblet. Her vision was starting to waver.

"And that would be enough for you tonight," Gale said as he plucked the goblet from her hand.

"But I want another! It's the only thing I ask for to help me with the stupid masquerading," she whined.

"You can ask the prince for it all you want after the announcement, which is about to happen, so we need to get moving."

And Gale guided her by the shoulders towards the glass doors again.

Inside, she handed the cape back to Gale and snuck a goblet from a passing servant when he wasn't looking.

She can see the necks and heads straining towards the second level of the ballroom where Chancellor Snow, Minister Heavensbee, Prince Aldran, Prince Peeta, and a beautiful princess stood. The orchestra halted its music as the Chancellor stepped forward to greet them.

The announcement was brief, with the Chancellor inviting the guests to congratulate the newly betrothed royals and proposing a toast to the couple. The other nobles and monarchs responded with a salute of their glass and a lively applause. Then the ball went back to its previous high spirits as the music swelled once more and the dancing resumed.

"Where's Prince Gloss?" she asked Gale who stood beside her, sipping from his own goblet.

"He must have passed out. I gather that's the reason Princess Cashmere did not look too pleased."

Katniss craned her neck discreetly, looking for Peeta.

She heard Gale laugh quietly and told her she did not have to wait long.

And indeed, she saw him cut through the throng of pressed bodies and walk straight to her, his gaze never wavering.

"I'll see you in the morrow then, cousin," Gale said as he bowed to the approaching prince.

It was with amusement that she regarded Peeta's face, flushed from the liqueur and without the mild expression he usually wore. He walked until he was close to her and pulled her nearer by the waist.

Katniss felt a thrum of electricity between them, and more keenly as his breath tickled the skin of her exposed shoulder. The liqueur was also working its spell on her.

He leaned in closer so his breath stroked her ear, a warm reminder of his presence. "Did you save me a dance, Katniss?"

She nodded.

"Good. We should get out of here then," and she looked up at him with a slight curl of the lip at the promise that shined on his eyes, a submission to whatever he had planned tonight. The smoldering look he gave made her feel invincible.

He took her hand and led her away from the floor. She stopped and he turned to assure her, with a smirk, that the Unification Ball was not the only highlight of the festivities.

He pulled her again, and as she saw their reflection on the wall's mirrors, a dashing prince pulling the delicate hand of lady, she flushed again. The luminescence of the thousand candles never wavered and they all looked magnificent bathed in it. She could feel the stares of the other ladies at court and for once, she had less a care in the world. Her prince was leading her and it was all that mattered.

The guards that lined the corridor outside the hall were as rigid as ever. It was a miracle that their spines held the same posture as they did when the ball started.

He led her out the long hallway. They went out the massive doors that they used to enter, except that a carriage was not waiting for them.

Katniss looked up to Peeta and he had on that irresistible wry smile, the same one that implored her to trust him.

She did. After a carriage for another nobleman fetched its master, they ran across the gardens, out the gate, to the narrow streets where another festival was erupting in the distance.

* * *

His hands were warm in hers as he led her down the busy, narrow streets.

They were not alone, and the other people surrounding them raced towards the pulsating festivity at the Capitol's square. The air wrapped around them in an eager heat and Katniss felt feverish with anticipation.

She could see the massive gathering in the distance. She broke away from Peeta's grasp to run ahead. Her hands traced the rough walls. She pulled her skirt up as she moved faster, the wind swimming along her ankles.

Katniss glanced back at Peeta furtively and he smiled at her recklessness, her impatience to reach there first.

The energy exploded as she entered the throng of people. The drums drowned her heart. The lutes and the violins cast a spell that had the revelers pressed against one another, the lanterns above illuminating their passionate expressions.

She pushed her way through, swaying her hips to the fervent music, to what the moment demanded. It was liberating. It was a heady power.

The people around her danced, and clapped, and stomped, and twirled. The women circled their men. Their hips ground into one another, arms snaking into waists.

She felt Peeta take her wrist from behind. She turned and pulled it from him, laughing, promising something else with her eyes. The liqueur buoyed her. She walked and squeezed her way through, until she came to a space in the middle of the square.

Katniss, pushed by the beats and the heady sway of bodies, turned towards Peeta and beckoned him with a purse of her lips.

He looked only at her as he walked. Other women eyed him, noticed him, and tried to pull him to them, but he pried their hands from his body, flushing her in vindication, in an ache, as Peeta saw only her.

The music began its feverish ascent. The drums were pounding. The lutes were wailing its tempo of seduction.

She felt they were unstoppable tonight.

By the fountain, she paused. Katniss danced towards Peeta now, and once she was close enough, his hands wound around her waist. He dipped his head to kiss her but she eluded his lips. She pulled back.

She circled him, their eyes never breaking. She was swinging her skirt. They stomped. They clapped.

Katniss threw her hands up to the stars before spinning sharply.

Peeta moved closer to her, his hands on her swaying hips. All she felt was the heat, those inner lines of fire building in her as they danced.

She cupped his nape, pressing her fingers inside his collar, into the skin damp with sweat. Their foreheads touched, close enough that he could kiss her again if he wanted.

But Peeta dipped her instead and she arched back, surrendering, his arm her only support. Katniss felt him breathing heavily, just as she was, their lips parted. His other hand caressed her face, bringing his hand down her neck, her breasts, leaving her shuddering, before resting on her hips. Then he swung her and brought her back up.

She clawed at the hem of his doublet, teasingly pulling it up. He weaved his fingers through her hair, freeing it of its jeweled net, sending her strands tumbling.

They danced. They trembled. They pushed back. They clasped one another. She purred in passion and he gasped. The music reached its exultant peak.

She removed herself from Peeta and took some steps back, arms coming down to trace her body as eagerly as Peeta's eyes stripped her.

Then she vaulted herself to him.

Peeta caught her, crushed her to him, and they turned.

She started to glide down, pressed closed, no part unconnected, her hips against his chest first. Then she felt him pant against her breasts pushing out from her corset. Katniss closed her eyes as his lips worshipped her neck. Her hips locked to his with a hook of her leg. She felt his vigor, quivering, yearning for her.

And she opened her eyes.

Her prince's eyes held a fervency she cannot look away from. His jaw clenched, his torso heaved, and he drew her to him, not getting any closer with their clothes in the way.

Katniss raked her fingers through his hair then pulled him savagely down, finally, for that kiss. It melted her being. His lips were plush against hers. His tongue thrust inside her, probing, coveting, dominating her, branding her.

She was a girl on fire.

* * *

Prince Gloss took another sip from the goblet he gripped tightly as he walked the empty corridor, the mauve liquid swaying inside its cage. The last of the ball's music echoed in the walls, along with the false laughter its patrons had to furnish the revelry with. His feet staggered and his sight blurred.

He was tired, of his duties, of being unable to sleep easily anymore and waking up to scratches on his skin as his Captain's screeches from inside the bull plagued his dreams, of the Chancellor's threats, of his father's blind desire and those of his allies, of the plotting and scheming, of everything.

Prince Gloss almost tripped on a piece of velvet that once hung on the wall and he leaned against a post.

The door neared, that door where everything would come to fruition as soon as the doubts had finally quieted.

In his mind, he saw the boy that he was run along the corridor with his sister, chasing after one another in a gurgle of careless laughter. The ghosts ran past him into that paradise of lost innocence, leaving him behind, as he took another step towards the door.

He had begun to shiver madly, as though plagued with the sweat.

He cannot fail this last chance.

He was too cowardly to stand beside Cashmere at the announcement earlier, preferring the company of shadows as he drowned his fears in wine. His sister was happy, blissfully unaware of the threat the Chancellor posed over her diadem-adorned head. The ball's attendees eagerly accepted the betrothal earlier, for it was nothing more than a princess marrying a prince from another kingdom. But he stole a look at Chancellor Snow, whose menacing eyes found him hiding, and he knew their agreement still stood.

The voices in his head grew to a din.

They first started as a whisper after the Chancellor's ultimatum. They grew louder with each goblet of wine consumed and with the unraveling of his being, pulled at all sides by his duties, by his anxiety, by his helplessness.

They told him of what he must do, that that tiny thought that bloomed in his mind in that chamber once Chancellor had expressed his threat to his sister was their only way out.

Prince Gloss fought the voices and their unthinkable suggestion, but as the weeks passed and he could think of no other solution again, the voices's proposition could no longer be ignored.

He took another step towards that door that held their deliverance.

The crystal knob was now a hand's length from his. There was a tray by the door with a full flask of wine, two more goblets, and a small vial. He rubbed his face viciously, setting aside his own goblet. He poured the wine into both goblets and the vial's content into one.

Then he turned the door, thankful that the celebration meant a slackening of security for everyone in the ball.

He had his smile once more as he greeted the man inside the room.

"Prince Aldran! All alone?"

The man, his sister's betrothed, turned and smiled at him.

"I'm waiting for Lord Abernathy before we head back. Have you not had your fill yet, Prince Gloss?" the man chuckled indulgently at him, gesturing to the goblets.

"The night is not over. I had forgotten to wish you my best and to drink to your betrothal."

Prince Gloss handed him the goblet, which he accepted graciously.

He was an exceptional man, a fine prince, well suited to provide for his sister's every happiness.

And he would.

Then Prince Aldran said solemnly, "I will take care of your sister. You and your Lord Father need not worry."

He adjusted the tight collar of his doublet.

"Yes I know you will keep her safe."

The logs crackled as they fueled the flame, the silence maddening, the air dense with lies.

"To your sister then, a most fair princess, and to the unity of our kingdoms," saluted the other prince.

Prince Gloss drank heavily from the goblet and looking over it, he saw the muscles of Prince Aldran's throat do their job and deliver the liquid to his body.

It would happen any moment now. He was driven by an unknown courage, as though his actions were not his and he was merely a spectator to the events. He had fallen far already.

Then the prince across him weakened, crumpling to floor.

Prince Gloss dragged the drugged prince to the long seat upholstered in intricate yellow satin, almost the same buttery shade as his sister's hair.

_This is for Cashmere_, he whispered to himself. For once, his sister will come first before his duty as a prince.

The necessary choices always carried the heaviest of burdens. The sons always reaped the fruits of their fathers's sins and treasons.

He took the dagger that rested on his hip from its sheath. Its cold blade was unused.

The drug had fully affected Prince Aldran and Prince Gloss knew the other was already paralyzed.

The hand that held the dagger was heavy, as was his blackened heart. Cashmere's laugh trilled in his head. Chancellor Snow's threats echoed along with it.

With one swift strike, a blow he almost never knew he made until the exact moment, Prince Aldran's throat burst open.

He watched the life drain out of the other prince. The eyes grew more distant and vacant. The blood gushed to his hands. It clung to the hem of his doublet. It stained the creaking wooden floor.

His atonement for tonight's atrocity would be his sister's life, and that was all that mattered to him now.

Prince Gloss wondered brokenly, as the dagger slipped from his blood-slickened hand, what it was all worth.

But he also knew, he was most assured of it, and the voices in his head affirmed, that his action would be the spark that would engulf their nation in an inferno.

He prepared for the retribution that was to come, for no aid to be received from the Chancellor and his beasts, for pawns did not have any power against the lions whose clashing roars and ambitious greed made their whole land tremble.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

This means war! Bwahaha! We're getting to my favorite parts. If you would like to refresh your memories, especially for that last scene, you can refer to Gloss's part in Chapter 4 and Plutarch's part in Chapter 5.

Again, thank you for reading. Things will get more interesting in the coming chapters. Reviews are always welcome! A heartfelt thank you also to my readers, reviewers, and to those who placed this on their alert lists and favorites list. You guys make writing rewarding. :D

Once again, The Hunger Games characters are not mine. I am only borrowing them for the benefit of my readers and my amusement. The rights belong to Suzanne Collins and her publisher.

See you soon! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:**

Hello again! Thanks for still reading!

To the anon who requested for a prayer circle over at everlark recs for my stories, this chapter's for you :D

* * *

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 9**

**Alternate Title: Off to Mockings Hall We Go**

The body was cold when Lord Abernathy rushed to its side.

The eyes stared emptily at the ceiling. Prince Aldran's heavy body had started to stiffen. He saw where the boy was slashed, where the blood spilled to his collar and to his doublet, where it stained the wooden floor.

Lord Abernathy knelt on the pool of blood by Prince Aldran's head and his heart tore open.

His fingers traced the Prince's face as he moved to close the eyes forever.

His eyes raked the body, from the blonde head to the stocky build to the twisted legs. All the three princes looked the same. Now another prince was dead under his watch. The boys he raised with the King and Queen.

Looking up, he saw the murderer, Prince Gloss.

The wretch was calm and unapologetic, but was unresponsive.

Lord Abernathy stood up and yelled for the guards who were with him to take Prince Gloss to Minister Crane. He picked up the fallen dagger, still dripping crimson. He tasted decay in his mouth. He wrapped the dagger and entrusted it to one of the Privy Gentlemen.

Prince Gloss did not resist as the guards roughly pinned his arms to his back and dragged him out of the room. He also looked dead as he passed by Lord Abernathy. There was not a trace of madness but only a resigned passivity.

He knew the young prince did not act alone. This was not a random killing but an order from someone higher. It sickened him to think who.

The consequences of tonight and the fumes of politics suffocated him, but it was not enough to eat the pain.

He sent for the youngest prince, the only one left.

As the guards left the room, when it was empty once more, he walked to the table to compose the letter to be sent to the King. He had to act swiftly, mechanically. The words flowed from the pen with ease. He had done it before, informed a father of his dead son. It was perfunctory. It was necessary.

It killed him.

When they entered the game, when they first planned to take the Chancellor down, they knew they were exchanging something of themselves in order to act as they did. They guarded their minds but forgot to guard those closest to them in their haste to win. It was the bitterest price paid yet.

He had said the same thing when Matthis was killed. They had never learned.

Aldran was to be his redemption, yet it was swiped from him again.

The door creaked open and Lord Abernathy raised his head from his slouched position over the table.

He turned his head first, his eyes seeing another one of the golden princes. The girl stood beside Peeta, their hands clasped.

Prince Peeta looked at him, took in the disheveled state of the room, the blood on the floor. He was sure the prince saw the heaviness of his shoulders. He stood up straighter.

"Where's my brother?" The prince strained out, letting go of Katniss's hand and walking towards him.

"Your Highness—"

"Where's Aldran?" Peeta intoned louder, the edge of his sorrow cutting through.

He paused, taking in the pain in the boy's eyes, and decided that it would be best to tell it bluntly. No words would ever soften the reality.

"It pains me greatly to inform His Highness that the Grand Duke has been murdered."

Lord Abernathy heard the girl gasp. He looked at her.

Peeta let out a strangled sound.

Then, suddenly, with a maddened shriek, the boy launched himself at him. The Prince shouted the livid words and accusations. All were true. All seared his heavy heart.

So he took everything, all the punches. He received the heavy blows and did not defend himself. He fell down to the floor. He felt a kick to his stomach. The inconsolable Prince shrieked madly like a wounded bear.

He will burn again for his sins and maybe rise in the ashes if he lived to see it. As he took more blows from the raging prince, he saw it.

Despite their good intentions, all they will be left with were the ashes.

Grunting, while he still had air in his lungs, he told the girl to get out.

* * *

She ran out the room and into the opulent, empty corridor. The sounds of the tumult broke her.

Katniss was in shock as she ran.

They had just come from the festivities in the Capitol's square. They were still drunk in joy, going up the steps to fetch Peeta's brother so they could all go back to the manor when the other Privy Gentlemen brought them the news on the steps that Lord Abernathy sought their presence.

And it had come spiraling down.

Katniss almost collided with another person, and as she looked up, it was Gale.

She panted as she looked at him, exhausted with the effort.

Gale was rigid with grief, eyes rimmed red.

But there was no time left. She needed help.

Katniss fisted the doublet and implored. "Please, you have to help them."

Gale stood there in shock, unhearing.

"Please, Gale!" she croaked out. "He might kill Lord Abernathy."

She pulled the man. He stumbled forward, heavy. She pulled more and they walked fast, the anguished sounds increasing once more.

When they opened the door, the room was in disarray.

Books were ripped from the shelves. The chairs were slammed to the floor. The vases's shards littered the carpet.

The pool of blood had spread.

Then they saw Peeta looming at Lord Abernathy, who was only about to get up.

Broken, her prince screamed madly. "You drunkard! We _trusted_ you. It was your _duty_ to protect my brothers," Peeta hurled the words like stones to the elder man, his mind poisoned with grief.

Before the Prince could charge again, Gale tackled him. Katniss went to Lord Abernathy. His face was bloodied and drained of fight. She gave him a delicate, lace handkerchief to stem the flow of blood from his nose.

Gale was still struggling with Peeta but the Prince shoved him back brusquely.

She looked at his dispirited face. She did not know what to do. Lord Abernathy breathed laboriously beside her.

Then Peeta left the room, the rage abandoning him.

"Leave him be," Lord Abernathy said. Gale rushed forward to help the man.

But she was a fool to not have helped Peeta and now regretted it.

Katniss stood and reached for the door as well.

She searched the rooms that lined the floor until she found him.

There were no candles and the room's only light came from its large windows that allowed the illumination from the moon and the lanterns and torches outside to come in.

Peeta sat in the corner the edge of a bed made with the wall. His knees were brought to his chest.

Her heart heaved painfully at the sight of her broken, crumpled, and shattered prince.

She approached him slowly, like a wounded animal.

The room was cold. The events of the night siphoned all the warmth, leaving them to languish in a desert of despair.

She crouched down beside him. The sounds he made frightened her.

Katniss reached to take his hand, wrapped against his knees. She covered one with hers to see how he would respond.

He quickly turned his head to her and she saw his eyes were deep pools of sadness. He looked older, face dragged down with grief.

She gathered him in her arms and he let himself fall, slowly.

Then he wept.

And her heart wept with him.

* * *

His jaw still hurt from where Prince Peeta attacked him as he tried to prevent the Prince from killing Lord Abernathy in his grief.

Lord Hawthorne stood in the room where the walls were licked with their shadows from the dying fire. Lord Abernathy was seated in the table, composing letter after letter to put a semblance of order to their mess.

His loss of a friend carved out his insides and he felt a hollow misery.

The sky outside the windows were changing colors as a leaden dawn approached

He looked at the older man, hands clasped in front of his face, eyes closed. He saw lines of despair by his mouth and heavy creases by his eyes. There were rolls and rolls of parchment scattered on the table along with sticks of wax and pots of ink.

"Had it been like this with Prince Matthis?"

The elder lord was silent, pain rolling off him. "Yes. No. But now I am sure who did this. It had been a warning with Prince Matthis. It's an open declaration now with Prince Aldran."

Lord Abernathy melted the wax by the lone candle. He let the fat tears drip to the letter before affixing his coat of arms.

"And the First Kingdom, were they really our allies? Or did they think our cause too hopeless that the other side persuaded them?"

Lord Abernathy handed him the letter. Gale crossed the room and went outside to the waiting messenger. Then he closed the door and they were alone again.

"I cannot say," the older man whispered. And he was not anymore the seasoned politician who never bended to any wind. His age had descended on him. His face was scored with disappointment. He knew what was to come, the silence heavy with it.

"Do we leave for the Twelfth Kingdom?" Gale asked.

Lord Abernathy pulled his hands back and rested his chin on them. "We await the king's orders," he said tiredly.

Then he began whispering to himself as if Gale was not in the room. Muttering his theories. Scratching the scruff of beard. Fingers rubbing his temples.

Gale was about to ask to take his leave when the war bells of the Capitol tolled.

_War bells?_ He thought. That cannot be right.

It was a scratchy sound at first, slow with age and unused. But slowly, it clang louder and it drowned out all other sounds in the coming morning.

Lord Abernathy and himself rushed to the window. They were in the elevated part of the Capitol and they saw the bells tolling furiously at the walls.

Then they saw it, in the distance, tiny yet looming.

A sea of red and gray. An incoming army.

"The hostile force," Gale whispered, unbelieving.

"Get the Prince and the Mockingjay!" Lord Abernathy shouted brusquely at him. Gale saw him reach for his flask before he ran out the door.

He saw the guards fighting fatigue. He ran from room to room, kicking the doors open and shouting for Peeta and Katniss.

He went up a flight of stairs hurriedly, knocking a servant carrying a tray of food.

He searched frantically for the pair again. The bells rang louder. The Capitol was only starting to sleep from the night of revelry. Everyone would either be drunk or tired. It will be a massacre.

Gale found them, huddled in a room, uncaring for the bells. The Prince's head was in Katniss's lap as she slowly stroked his hair. She looked up at him in confusion.

"We need to go," he said. She nodded. "Now!" And he rushed forward to help Peeta up.

"What is happening?" Asked Katniss.

"The Capitol is under attack." Gale replied grimly as they ambled through the door. That caught the attention of the Prince. He saw Peeta snapping out of his languidness and gripping Katniss's wrist as they ran towards the stairs. The clouds cleared from the Prince's eyes.

They turned at the bottom and rushed to the room where Lord Abernathy was and he wasted no time.

From beyond the window they can see beginnings of a fire from another part of the Capitol. He knew most of Panem's army was deployed in the Eighth and Eleventh Kingdoms, remembering the letters scattered over Minister Crane's study. They were battling what was attacking them now, or rather another host of the hostile force. It will take days for Panem's army to be recalled, if they still had an army, but by then there would be nothing left of the Capitol to defend. They only had the minimum number of soldiers and archers in the Capitol and not even a cavalry. These would not be reinforced by the retinues brought by the monarchs for they would be fleeing as well.

Lord Abernathy was in front of them, surprisingly calm despite the tumult of events. He addressed the prince with his instructions.

"Get out of the Capitol immediately, Your Highness. It was built for lavishness and not defense and it will fall soon. Run to the stables straightaway. The Captain and your retinue will meet you there, I had already sent word. Where is the next location of the pearl?"

"A day's ride west of here."

"Good. I need you to find the last known pearl and then go back home to the Twelfth Kingdom. We won't have time to retrieve it once the attack spreads throughout Panem."

The prince nodded curtly.

"But is it really necessary to find the pearl in the face of war?" Katniss asked, incredulous.

Lord Abernathy looked at her bleakly. "You arrived here for a reason, my lady. I believe it now and I fear it has come. We will need every resource we can use now." Peeta stiffened beside Katniss. She paled.

And he turned to Gale. "There is a ship waiting for you at a safe harbor in the Eighth Kingdom. Take half of Prince Aldran's retinue with you. I need you to go to hostile force's land and know everything you can about them. More than what you learned under Minister Crane. I care not if you need to burn their villages to get this. Map out their lands and look for their seat of power then return home. Do you understand?"

Gale nodded once.

"Now go," Lord Abernathy commanded.

But the Prince did not move. He was about to say something, perhaps apologize for his behavior, but Lord Abernathy waved him off gruffly. "Think nothing of it my Prince. I will bring your brother back home," he said.

And then they were running.

* * *

They descended the massive stairs fronting the hall where the Unification Ball was held. They passed the ghost of the revelries, the strewn goblets and velvet trimmings that fell from the wall.

Katniss had barely any sleep yet she felt alert. And unnerved. And stunned.

Peeta had not let go of her for a second since they came out of the room they were huddled in. They were all still in the lavish vestments from the night before, unfit for a hurried escape from the threat of war.

They ran across the gardens, the lanterns and torches extinguished. The bells had not ceased their wail. She heard the panic of the people as they entered the labyrinthine streets. The hostile force must have reached the city, their deadly soldiers creeping in.

Peeta and Gale each picked up some fallen swords that littered the streets, dropped by guards who had forgotten their sworn oath to protect their monarchs.

She smelled smoke and fear.

Gale led them, having memorized the shorter, untaken paths that would lead them more quickly to the stables.

But he stopped as they were met by a handful of the hostile soldiers in their menacing armor. The seal of red and gray imposed with the head of a winter lion decked their mail and shields as they lined up the narrow street.

She felt Peeta let go of her wrist and nudged her to Gale.

Then she watched in horror as he moved forward, sword in hand.

She was about to lunge at Peeta but Gale held her back with an arm across her stomach.

Katniss heard the first clang of swords and it echoed frightfully in her chest.

The soldiers may have had their armors but Peeta was quicker, handling the sword as though it were an extension of his arm. He moved with a deadly grace as he thrust and parried and twisted. Katniss saw, in horror, as each of the moves from the soldiers came close to Peeta but he would be quick in withdrawing and lunging to attack again. The narrow streets created a funnel to Peeta's advantage, never handling more than three soldiers.

When he was about to make his first kill, Gale turned her around to face him. "Don't look," he whispered. She heard instead that menacing sound as steel cut through flesh and sinew and bone.

It continued. She knew what fueled her Prince, a tangle of anger and sorrow. Gale moved them so he shielded her.

Then it was over. The weapons and shields had dropped to the ground and she knew who the victor of the battle was.

A warm hand reached out to her. It was Peeta's. But it was also slick with blood.

And they ran again.

They encountered two more small sets of soldiers, the low-ranked ones tasked to scout the city they were invading. The pawns.

Peeta killed them all.

And every time her Prince took her hand, it became more and more drenched with the blood of the fallen. And she still did not look at him, her eyes falling to their clasped hands.

She prayed that they would not encounter any more soldiers. It was not for the lives of the soldiers that prompted her intercession but to have less people for Peeta to kill, to be besmirched with.

Katniss only comprehended the true danger they were in as her stomach plummeted from every sound of steel meeting its brother that echoed through the streets. She realized the depths of what people would do for power as the screams of more victims erupted. She saw the web of war they were caught in that would bleed them until they were dry and bereft of conscience, of anything to live for but hate and greed, those original sins.

One more set of soldiers blocked their path and her Prince did not hesitate to shove her again to Gale as he ran forward to attack.

He was getting worse with every attack, killing with less and less hesitation.

Katniss heard the tearing of flesh, the grunts of pain, and the splattering of blood to the wall.

She finally mustered the courage and looked up.

In the midst of his battle with the last soldier, she saw what he had become. Their deadly dance was mesmerizing. With a double grip of his sword, the Prince plunged the weapon into the man's jugular, the body slumping backwards as Peeta pulled the sword out.

When it was over, as Peeta stood over his last victim, all she saw was her golden prince that was tarnished in the rain of blood he had made.

He looked at her with a mad glint in his eye, panting, as he pulled her roughly forward to run again.

They reached the stables, which were mercifully still intact.

The Captains met them and Gale said a brief goodbye, placing a hand on Katniss's shoulder with a whispered imploration that she take care of herself, and a bow to Peeta.

Then she ran again with Peeta and the Captain to the waiting carriage.

They left the stables swiftly, maneuvering the streets of the Capitol to the smaller gate in the west wall, their retinue following closely.

Katniss looked at Peeta, seated at her side. He was discarding his bloodied doublet. The stains reached his velvet undershirt through the slashes.

Then the carriage stopped abruptly, making Katniss fall forward from the force.

The horses whinnied as she felt the carriage turn in another direction. From the window she saw that the most of the retinue and the Captain stayed behind to fight the larger battalion that blocked their way.

She swallowed the fear threatening to claw out of her.

Her last image, as they fled the Capitol, was their loyal Captain getting speared in the throat and falling off his horse.

* * *

Lord Hawthorne did not take a carriage. It was much too cumbersome and he preferred riding a horse.

Half the soldiers that served Prince Aldran was with him now, mounted in their fresh stallions. They had swords but not armors.

The stables were still full, the other monarchs having not yet made an escape. Perhaps they still rested in their manors or they fled by running, leaving their servants behind.

They passed people screaming for help. They passed burning houses and their residents coming out, sometimes lit by fire. They passed children crying.

War made them all ugly, peeling the layers of civility that they cultivated for years, until their basest instincts took over.

Remembering the map that Minister Crane showed him, Gale pulled the reigns so his horse turned left. They entered the small woods that stood before the northern gate.

The leaves muffled the pitiful sounds from the Capitol.

But Gale heard a woman's scream pierce through the trees.

Not far from where they galloped, he saw a figure clothed in a familiar dress. Enemy soldiers hounded her and pulled at her clothes. Her sleeves ripped as she tried to run. But they caught her, their daggers out as they slit her gown.

Gale turned his horse once more and dismounted when he came upon the scene. He ran, sword in hand, and cut through the man about to spread the woman's legs. His blood gushed as Gale pulled the sword back that connected as far as the man's spine.

He recognized the woman, even though her face was splattered with blood and her eyes were mad with fright and distrust.

Gale gripped her wrists as she struggled to move away from him.

"Princess Johanna, it's me. We've met before, through Prince Aldran. I won't hurt you," his voice adopted a dulcet tone to placate the terrified woman. Around them, the soldiers of his retinue killed the enemy and the smell of blood sprang into the air.

A spark of recognition allowed her to calm herself. Then she broke down, muttering that she was alone and that there was no one left of her guards and servants.

Gale then shed his doublet and undershirt, handing the latter to the princess whose gown was in tatters. The side of her corset was ripped. She shakily accepted it and wore the shirt that was still warm.

"We need to go Your Highness. The Capitol has been overrun. More of the enemy will be here soon," he explained

"I need to go home."

Gale sighed. "I am sorry but I do not have enough men to send you south. You will need to come with me but I am heading north towards the Eighth King—"

"Are you mad?" The princess bit out suddenly, some of her former fire returning. She had always been known at the Council to be one of its more outspoken members.

"I have orders I need to fulfill, Your Highness."

"And why should I go with you? I'll be dead if I stay, I'll starve to death if I walk away on my own, or I will die a possible painful and humiliating death if I go with you."

Gale was losing patience. Now that he had rescued the princess, he couldn't very well leave. But she was making it difficult.

Princess Johanna stared at him blankly, daring him to fight back.

But he had no time and could not risk another battalion of the enemy finding them.

So he did the first idea that flashed in his mind and he carried the princess and slumped her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed at the indignity but Gale did not care. He may not be leaving her here, but he was not dying for her either in her stubbornness to wait.

Gale stopped by his horse as he brought the Princess down. She was still protesting but he held her head tight between his palms, her face contorting in fury. He hissed his own as he attempted to knock sense into the stubborn girl.

"We do not have time anymore, Princess. If you want to die so badly, you will have to take your own life because I am not leaving you here. Do you think, if you stayed, that they will let you die so easily, a monarch they can field into their plots and machinations? No. When they capture you, you will be shackled and given to their soldiers for spoiled pleasures and they will be lining up to use you," he said in a low tone.

She whimpered and tried to turn away but he gripped her tighter.

"Is that what you want? To be reduced to a common whore and splayed in dirty sheets in the villages they pillage and destroy?"

He let go then and she looked angrily at him. He stared stonily back.

"Help me up then," she finally said with a haughty upturn of her nose.

When they had mounted, and the soldiers had as well, they rode out of the woods and into the tall gate. The enemy had not laid siege on it from the other side and he was thankful, for it would mean their end if they met a larger infantry.

As their horses rushed past the gate, a terrible explosion reached their ears from the Capitol's center. Princess Johanna tightened her grip on him and he felt her turn her head.

Gale did not need to look back, for he could already smell the smoke and the charred bodies of the devastation.

* * *

They never rested for too long in one place. It was just enough so their horses could graze and sleep, and then they were moving once more.

Katniss slept fitfully against the wall of the carriage. Sometimes Peeta would hold her but she would leave his side because the smell of blood on him was too strong.

They had been riding for a day and had stopped again for the night. But they did not light a fire to burn through until dawn came. It would be too reckless and dangerous if they were followed.

They had only three soldiers with them now. It was what was left of their decimated retinue. Katniss tried not to think of that bloodied scene she witnessed. Her nightmares had since been filled with the arc of the Captain's body as he fell to the ground. She would wake up and see Peeta sleeping and she'd fall into another round of fitful sleep. Sometimes the nightmare would be Peeta endlessly battling more soldiers. She never got any rest.

A day had passed and they had not arrived at the location of the pearl. They must have taken a wrong turn in the woods for they dared not use the road. The coachman said it may take them another day to reach the old castle. They were back to choosing obscure places to stop and hide in.

When one of the horses died of exhaustion, they could not let it go to waste. The soldier that rode it brought his sword out and began to butcher it for its meat. They ate horsemeat and some squirrels the coachman's snares caught for the night. Katniss threw it up the following morning, with Peeta holding her hair back as she heaved.

They were once again riding, but the jittery movements of the carriage made Katniss queasy again. Her stomach had not settled yet. Peeta had his arm around her and she moved closer to him. She peeked at his face that was tilted backwards as it rested on the carriage's wall. They had barely spoken after they left the Capitol. There was nothing to speak of anyway, and their voices disappeared as the grief pounded down.

She felt dirty, still in the clothes from the Ball and unable to change into anything. They had not packed. They had not bathed. But the air was at least cool that it made her shiver when the moon rose.

Katniss wondered what had happened to Lord Abernathy, to Gale, to the chambermaids that kept her company, to the nobility that danced freely in the ball, to the princes and princesses.

Looking out the window, they passed a field then an abandoned town. Its houses bore scorches and the dried stain of blood. She had not seen another soul since the Capitol. She wondered if there would ever be an end to the death she was seeing.

She felt the carriage go on an incline. Peeta woke and looked out the window. He said they were near and she sighed in relief.

When they stopped, she exited the carriage swiftly, glad that her legs can now stretch.

They were by the dried moat of an ancient castle. It was smaller than the palaces she was accustomed to. Its walls of rough stone were dark with age. Some of its towers had already crumbled.

Katniss heard Peeta get down from the carriage. The wind was nippy and the place was silent.

The coachman remained with the carriage and horses while the three soldiers went with them. They crossed the drawbridge and Katniss saw the spikes of the portcullis protruding from the entrance's ceiling.

The air was colder once inside the dark alley of the castle's entrance. She saw the sunlight shine at the courtyard up ahead, the grass still surprisingly green but tall. More low walls enclosed around the courtyard. When they reached the edge, she saw a tall tower to her right and a grand hall to her left.

"Where are we?" she asked Peeta. She saw him walk to left, towards a wall covered with vines and he pushed these aside.

Katniss gasped when she saw the symbol carved into the wall. Inside the tipped shield was the image in the locket she wore, a bird poised to take flight. She saw Peeta trace the unfamiliar letters below the symbol.

"We're in Mockings Hall," Peeta said as she neared him. Katniss looked down as she pulled the locket to check its design.

"It was the ancestral home of King Petrarch's mother, who came from the Eighth Kingdom. You remember him, don't you? My ancestor who ended the Dynasty of the Warring Kings?" said Peeta as he nudged Katniss.

"How could I forget when you drilled Panem's history into me," she muttered as she walked away to the massive wooden doors that looked impenetrable. In truth she had switched him in his mind to another monarch, but Peeta need not know that.

Peeta helped the soldiers as they pushed the doors to open. But he instructed the three to stand guard outside the hall, with one climbing the tower to watch.

Inside was a narrow hall with tall ceilings. The only light came from the large windows to their left, which revealed a small garden. Their footsteps clacked loudly on the floor paved with tiny enamel stones that formed a mosaic. Katniss saw the images depicting a time of war.

_Didn't they ever do anything apart from war?_ Katniss thought grumpily.

She stepped on faces and weapons and into the next hall, which was darker and danker. Her breath choked when, again, she saw that symbol of the bird in her locket carved gigantically on the wall up ahead. The sun filtered through the hall's dome, shining down on the Mockingjay relief.

"What are those?" asked Katniss, pointing at the unfamiliar seals that lined the walls on each side. She walked onto a table that held a giant map of Panem, much like the one that Priestess Sae unfurled to them before they left for their quest. But it was also a merging of both maps, indicating both the old divisions and the newer, larger territories when the kingdoms had assimilated. It also bore the coats of arms, the heralds that Katniss memorized for each kingdom, in little flags coated thickly with dust. Everything in the room had a film of dirt, muffling the sounds of their feet as well as compelling her to sneeze.

She saw Peeta walking, touching the walls and wiping his hand on his trousers to rid him of the dirt. He walked to the other wall, forehead scrunched, as he eagerly wiped clean one symbol. The red of the small tiles of the background had faded but one can still see the symbol clearly: a bloody sun and a soaring Mockingjay.

"It's the Twelfth Kingdom's war emblem," Peeta muttered.

"So you have a war emblem on top of your coat of arms?"

"We use the coat of arms in times of peace," Peeta said as he walked to the back where a tapestry hung. He pulled it, effectively sending a billow of dust to storm the room and making Katniss sneeze thrice.

"Peeta!" Katniss protested.

But he was not listening, for he proceeded to wipe the walls with the tapestry, revealing the emblems more clearly.

The dust went to her eyes and she itched to rub it out.

She heard Peeta talking to himself, "First Kingdom… Falcon on silver, Second Kingdom… thorny rose on green, Third Kingdom… Tipped shield pierced by a lance on gray… Fourth Kingdom…Three-crossed tridents on bronze…"

When she could finally see without her eyes burning, Peeta was still looking at the wall, fascinated. She saw a running fox against a purple background and a spiked gauntlet on a brown field.

Then Peeta walked to the other wall, carrying the tapestry and erasing the dust. Katniss groaned and covered her face and heard him muttering again.

"Crossed axes on blue, that's the Seventh Kingdom… This is unbelievable, Katniss! I only used to hear about these in the story from my governess. I think this is the hall where they signed the Treaty of Unification."

"Well, a lot of good that did you," she muttered.

But there was one more emblem after the Twelfth Kingdom that caught Peeta's attention. His careful strokes revealed the familiar seal of red and gray with a winter lion's head, the same one that was on the armors and shields that had hounded them.

"There's a Thirteenth Kingdom… all along," Peeta said.

"What? What happened to them?" Katniss asked, bewildered.

Peeta shook his head, looking at the markings below the Mockingjay symbol on the wall. "Perhaps it's in there," he said with a nod of the head.

"But how will you translate without your books?" Katniss wondered as they walked to the space behind the table fronting the wall.

"Well, I had been studying without fail every night while _someone_ slept soundly," he added with a small smile as they stopped.

It was then that Katniss felt a warm glow in her chest as the Prince looked tenderly at her and she wondered how she could ever repay him for everything he had done for her, wholeheartedly and uncomplainingly. She reached out and touched his cheek and said, "Thank you," warmly. The Prince took her hand and placed a soft kiss on her palm and it ignited a memory. She used to see her father do this gesture to their mother while they prepared dinner. She and Prim would then make faces and their father would chase them around the kitchen.

"Think nothing of it," he whispered back. And he brought her to a warm embrace, the first they shared after their escape from the Capitol, after that heated dance they shared at the festival. She had missed this, she decided. The events had distanced them and the grief they felt drove them into silence.

"I'm scared, Peeta," she confessed. She had never before felt so young and ill-equipped, a mere girl whose only hope was to get into the college of her choice and who got dumped into a strange, warring land.

"I will not let anything happen to you," he said fiercely, a quiet promise that sent shivers through her as his breath flit by her ear. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Now we need to hasten and find the pearl," Peeta said as Katniss pulled away.

"Do you mind if I wait outside in the garden? My eyes have yet to recover from the dust storm you created," said Katniss.

Peeta chuckled and acquiesced, but not before adding that she should not go far.

Katniss walked eagerly out the stuffy hall and into the garden overrun with weeds. A few flowers still bloomed but the water had long since not flowed from the fountain at the center. A lone bench, covered with vines, faced the fountain and the castle.

The fresh spring air was welcome. She wished there was water though so she could splash some onto her face.

Katniss walked around the garden, examining and smelling the different flowers, a small pleasure she had not done in a long time. It was a peaceful task. She remembered her mother having a small herb garden. She saw a patch of dill and inhaled it greedily, letting the smell suffuse her mind and take her back to dinners when her family was complete. She hummed a tune her father used to sing to her when the nights were stormy.

Then a small, black bird with white feathers on its wings perched gently on her finger and she smiled at the delicate creature.

It fluttered its wings once more, flew, and landed on the bench. Katniss walked towards it and began to pull away the vines, the tiny, dried leaves swaying in its descent to the grass. The bird sang back to Katniss the tune she hummed. Katniss smiled at the creature as she continued on her work.

She felt a raised part on the stone as her fingers swept through the vines.

Then it passed a smooth, tiny stone.

She eagerly swept the layers of vines aside until she came upon the carving on the bench.

And the third pearl.

The bird looked questioningly at her, hummed the first four notes of her song, then flew away.

She could hardly believe what she saw.

Katniss took the pearl, pushed her frayed sleeves back, and fitted in onto her bangle. Only one more empty socket remained.

She was about to call for Peeta when she heard him scream her name.

"Katniss!" Her eyes followed him as he ran out of the hall and into the garden.

"Peeta! Peeta! I found the pearl!" she exclaimed as Peeta stopped in front of her by the fountain. She extended her arm and he held it, looking at the row of pearls that was almost complete.

"Where?"

"In the bench, a bird, of all things, led me there," she said unbelievingly, then added, "What is it?"

"I learned something from the inscription," he panted. A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead. When he had caught his breath, he spoke.

"There used to be thirteen kingdoms, until King Petrarch _exiled_ the Thirteenth Kingdom to a land far north." He straightened up and continued.

"And also, you're not the first Mockingjay."

She was stunned.

"What?"

"There was another before you. The full legend was inscribed on the wall. During the Dynasty of the Warring Kings, King Petrarch's mother, who lived here, dreamt of a bird that sang a prophecy to her while she was pregnant with her first-born son. In her dream, the bird, a jabberjay in Mockings's garden, this garden, told her that a being from another world would come to help her son. This being comes during auspicious times. The last auspicious time was the last great war. And from the recent events, another one is brewing. Priestess Sae told me about it when the signs appeared before you came. That is why you are here. The last Mockingjay helped King Petrarch end the last great war."

Katniss felt a cold, heavy stone drop to her stomach.

So many possibilities crashed into her mind. But more importantly, there was no escaping her duty, her destiny, any longer.

And she began to panic. And sweat coldly. And shake.

"But I don't know how to fight! And I don't ever want to kill again. And I don't want to die—"

"You will not die—"

"And how come the other kingdoms don't know this? They're supposed to be coming after me now—"

She was turning hysterical.

"Calm down Katniss!"

"That's it though. That's it! I'm causing this war. Because I'm here, there's a war!

"No—"

"It is! Oh my god, I'm responsible for so many deaths," she whimpered and slackened into the bench.

Peeta kneeled in front of her and took her hand, whispering consolingly. "You must not think that way, Katniss. You are not responsible for other people's lust for power. And perhaps the other kingdoms have no knowledge of this because King Petrarch kept it a secret, which is also what we are doing with your identity. And besides, three thousand years is enough time to be forgotten or to be relegated to myths and stories for children," he said as he calmly traced her cheek with the back of his hand.

She stared at him with watery eyes. "I don't know how to do this," remembering her early conversation with Gale before they went to the palace.

His thumbed brushed against her lip, hushing her. Then he kissed her softly, twice, tilting his head for better access. He slowly parted her mouth with his tongue and Katniss felt the world melt away. She wished they could stay like this, where everything was so simple, where her senses were only filled with Peeta.

But a sharp screech from the tower where one of the soldiers was standing guard forced them apart. The soldier had just enough time to call to Peeta before a flaming arrow lodged itself in his chest and he fell.

She felt Peeta grab her wrist as he shouted for her to run.

And it seemed all they did was run, from danger, from weapons, from enemies both human and supernatural.

Peeta dragged her and felt the hem of her dress rip as it caught one of the brambles they ran past. They were in the woods, alone, unarmed, and defenseless, with nothing but their ability to flee preventing their deaths.

They heard the foot soldiers and the mad scramble as weapons and shields clanged, in search of them.

Her legs ached as she pushed herself to run faster. Peeta's grip never slackened against her and she felt his nails dig painfully into her wrist. But it was a welcome sensation as tendrils of fatigue tried to ensnare her.

They crashed through bushes, jumped over fallen logs, and squeezed through the rough barks of trees, never looking back, never changing directions.

The path cleared to a wide lake.

There was a bridge to the far right but they did not have enough time to go and run there.

"We swim," Peeta said simply. "Take your dress off, or else it will drag you down," he said as he removed his own shirt.

Katniss had no time to protest or think about rising from the waters in only her corset and underskirt. She fumbled with the laces of her dress and felt Peeta's hands assisting her. He helped remove her dress, once beautiful and exquisite, but now in ruins, and she did not hesitate to leave this by the small stones in the shore.

They dove and swam, and the icy temperature immediately assaulted the muscles of their limbs, draining it of heat and strength.

When they reached the middle, her arms could no longer work and her legs paddled so slowly. Peeta forced her to climb onto his back and told her to try and paddle as hard as she can.

She felt weak and helpless. She heard the soldiers nearing, tearing down the woods in their search for them.

When they neared the other edge of the lake, Katniss screamed as an arrow narrowly missed Peeta's ear.

"Hurry!" she cried and paddled harder.

She felt the muscles in his neck straining as he pushed for that last stroke.

They crawled onto the shore and Katniss helped the Prince get up, exhausted from their swim. She looked back, before they scrambled into the woods, to see another soldier aiming his arrow at them. She pushed Peeta just as she heard the thrum in the air as the arrow missed them once more. But another brushed against Peeta's arm, leaving a gash and a trail of blood.

The wind bit icily at their wet bodies as they raced through the woods. They were nearing the town they passed before. But what worried her is that a field was up ahead after the town.

They would have no cover there. They would be easy pickings for the archers.

She voiced her concern to Peeta and he grunted, no doubt thinking the consequence she had feared.

Katniss felt a familiar fear ripple through her as they ran through the abandoned town. It was the same one she felt as she battled the curse of the sirens before.

It was tinged with hopelessness.

But a look at Peeta showed that he did not think as she did. She saw his determination flowing through the veins that strained through his neck and the grim set of his lips. His eyes were steely. She gripped his hand tighter. Their shoes ran slick on the cobbled streets.

They heard the rumblings of another large group of people, perhaps a host of thousands nearing them from the field on the other side and Katniss let out a whimper.

She was running to her death.

"No Katniss, don't," Peeta breathed out. "I would die first before they harm you."

But when they reached the edge between the town and the field, Peeta let out an unbelieving cry.

There, at the other side of the field, came the Twelfth Kingdom's coat of arms. Soldiers mounted on horses, all armed and poised to attack, followed it.

Lord Abernathy must have sent word to the King.

But they also heard the nearing of the Thirteenth Kingdom's armed men.

Peeta nudged her forward as they descended from the town and into the expanse of tall grass.

It whipped at her face, stinging, as the stalks unmercifully did not bend to her. Her wet clothes clung to her painfully. Peeta's blood ran down his arm and into her bare one. They did not stop running, and they saw the Twelfth Kingdom's soldiers and horses moving towards them.

When they reached the middle, as the Twelfth Kingdom's horses thundered past, Peeta stopped and secured her into his arms. There were shouts of other soldiers coming to get them out of harm's way but they stood there, immobile, breathing heavily in relief, that they had survived.

Katniss had not felt a solace like this in a long time and Peeta did not let her go. Their breaths united as she closed her eyes and she traced her fingers down his bare chest.

No other arms had made her feel safe as the clang of weapons resounded and the roar of war engulfed them.

* * *

They were finally safe.

But that would only be temporary as they planned their next move.

It had been two days since they all arrived home and the king had ordered their sole border shared with the Fourth Kingdom closed. Their ships patrolled their seas.

Lord Abernathy sipped from his trusted flask and swallowed his liquor slowly. It carved a smooth, hot path down his throat as he waited for the King to arrive.

Their last prince also stood in the room of the King's study, but the prince had yet to speak to him.

The young man looked out the window, behind the king's desk, and into the outer gardens of the palace. He had missed the vivid, fiery hues of their kingdom's leaves. His arm was still bandaged from the wound he had received when they were rescued from the Eighth Kingdom.

The day he fled the Capitol may have been the first time he prayed, not for his safety, but for Peeta's. And perhaps the girl as well.

He knew they would be able to leave but there had been no telling of their safety once outside the Capitol. Lord Abernathy had sent a letter by falcon to the King to send his army to meet the Prince in the last known pearl's location at Mockings Hall.

He prayed the King's host was not too late.

His own escape from the Capitol was marked with blood, and the cut on his leg was proof.

Another sip warmed him even more than the merry fire to his right.

Then the herald announced the King's presence, he stood, and he saw his oldest, closest friend enter the room.

King Owain seemed frailer and his coat hung even more loosely. His beard had a splattering of white, and the gray hairs conquered more space in his temple.

The King sat down on his massive table and beckoned them both closer.

Peeta did not turn from his position by the window. They had already discussed yesterday the full legend of the Mockingjay that Prince Peeta discovered at Mockings Hall as well as the significance of the Thirteenth Kingdom.

They settled quickly into the discussion of war, of Prince Aldran, of the First Kingdom's action, of the Chancellor, but the youngest prince seemed uninterested in the conversation.

Until the subject became the Mockingjay and what the full legend meant to them now.

His voice was gravelly but the weight of his words pulled their attention.

"You will not use her for your ends," he said quietly.

King Owain sighed.

"That is not the conversation we were about to have, but thank you, my son, for your rapt attention. Now that you had expressed interest in what we have to say, may I please see you when I talk to you?"

It was the nearest to an admonition he heard from the mild King Owain. It was perhaps the strain of the political machinations, or the grief over Aldran. Or perhaps the King was just tired, like he was.

Peeta walked stiffly around the King's table to stand in front of Lord Abernathy's seat.

"What you had requested cannot be granted—"

"You will not use her as you used my brothers for your ends," Peeta answered slowly, bitterly.

The King was shocked. His usually mild mannered son was now passionately defending a girl who may be the key to the war.

Then the King's eyes steeled. Peeta inherited his quiet fire from father.

"Your brothers, Peeta, understood their duty, and you will learn it too, someday. We had not asked for it yet it befalls on us. The only sensible choice left is to move forward and not wallow in pity that we had been unjustly dealt with by fate," King Owain replied with restrained dignity.

"Lose the infatuated lenses you choose to view the world in Peeta. You need to see the world as it is, divided into the necessary choices you need to make to survive. As for the Mockingjay, once the last pearl is retrieved, she will be aiding our efforts, whatever we have decided them to be."

Peeta stared stonily at them both and exhaled.

The King withdrew his hand to his lap.

"Now, for the more pressing matters," the King paused. "Peeta you are my only heir left."

They had this discussion yesterday and it was his advise to the King that the monarch pursued now.

"You will need to be betrothed,"

And the realization strode across the Prince's expression. The King continued, unperturbed.

"You need a wife, soon. And more importantly, you need an heir to continue our bloodline."

"Father _please_, not now. Not like this."

But the King was relentless.

"I believe you have already chosen. And I heartily give my consent. I know you know how important it is that the succession be secured."

"You are asking me to bring a child to a time of war?"

"I am asking you to do your duty lest the fate of Eighth Kingdom befall on us. I had received news that King Fergus is dead and his heir, Princess Annelis, had gone mad with grief. Their kingdom is in utter disarray from the attacks of the Thirteenth Kingdom as well as the greed of their upper nobility who are fighting for the throne all because Princess Annelis has no heir. They have no regents. Queen Magda is too old. Prince Finnick will not be marrying the princess anymore, not when her kingdom is too unstable. Is that the fate you wish on your people? For them to be without a King or a Queen? For them to starve as war ravages their farms and forests?"

Peeta straightened up, pain in his eyes. The King had recited to him the reasons Lord Abernathy gave yesterday. Peeta reflected the distress of the King yesterday.

When he did not reply, the King simply said, "You may take your leave. Think on it."

He watched as their only Prince marched out the door with heavy footsteps.

The real work was only beginning.

* * *

Though they had arrived at the palace three days ago, Katniss had yet to spend time with Peeta.

He was whisked away immediately into conferences with the King and with Lord Abernathy, even with Priestess Sae, but she was unable to have even a dinner with him.

Except for one time.

They had only slept together for one night, the night that they arrived, the horrors of war still fresh in their blood. They clutched each other in bed, desperate to have no space between them.

But since then, she slept alone and woke alone and she missed him.

Katniss missed that moment between sleeping and waking that she always spent inhaling Peeta's scent in. She always burrowed her head deeper into his embrace and would sleep some more. He would wake her up later with a trail of soft kisses along her jaw.

But now, sitting in the garden of her apartments in the early evening, she was anxious again.

She was anxious because of what they learned from the full legend of the Mockingjay, of what the war would mean to them, of what she needed to do now.

But she worried, most importantly, for Peeta.

His responsibilities, mountains and mountains of them, meant no respite for her grieving Prince.

A firefly perched on her lap, and as she looked around, they had illuminated the garden, their soft incandescence flitting from one blade of grass to a still leaf or petal.

She thought more of Peeta, of where they stood since they slept in each other's beds and that undeniable hunger they each shared for the other.

She realized she needed to talk to him now, or soon, because her thoughts were driving her senseless.

Katniss was about to stand and search for him when he made his presence known.

He approached where she sat on a flat, stone bench. She sensed a heaviness in his gaze, almost a pained expression. His blonde hair looked almost silver in the faint light.

When he sat down, her hand immediately went to touch his face, noting the slight stubble that tickled her palm.

Peeta still had not spoken and was staring at her intensely,

She was beginning to feel frightened.

But he exhaled and smiled and took her cold hands into his own warm ones.

His eyes softened.

"Katniss," He took out a small box from his pocket.

She felt her stomach plummet, driven by heavy stones falling with every breath.

_No…_

There was that wounded gleam in his eye again.

He tucked her hair behind an ear then softly kissed her. She could hardly kiss back.

"Katniss, I need to ask you something" he said again, voice vulnerable.

He opened the box and it revealed a thin band of gold encrusted by shining diamonds.

"Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

_No,_ she thought. There was something wrong. This was too fast.

She stared at his face, his lips, his shining eyes.

"Say something, Katniss," he said, moving a hand to her neck with his thumb lazily caressing her skin with his thumb.

And then it hit her.

Peeta must have been forced to do this, coerced during one of his endless meetings. Now that he was the only prince left. Now that he was the only heir.

The line of succession must be secured, and for an heir he needed a wife.

Her chest caved with the realization that she felt angry tears springing in her eyes.

But he was much too noble to tell her the real reason, perhaps thinking she would react badly. Or perhaps thinking she would understand.

And she did.

"Oh Peeta," she whispered, her voice soft with sympathy.

She saw him close his eyes.

"But don't you think this is all so contrived?" she asked.

"Only if you let it make you feel that way," he answered back, passionately, desperately.

"I… what do you mean? It's too fast," she bemoaned.

He brought both his hands to cup her face. Peeta smiled warmly. She could not look away from his mesmerizing eyes.

"Oh sweetheart, everything would have led to this. It would have happened anyway," he said lovingly.

"Even without the threat of war hanging over us, after I met you, I would have courted you. I already dreamt of you as a child when I first heard of the legend. I would have showed you around the kingdom, to the places that meant greatly to me. I would have listened to you as you regaled me with stories of your world and I would have had poets write you sonnets and I would have told you I wrote them,"

And she chuckled at that, sniffling.

"I would attend to your every need, every want. I would love you. I would have done everything to make you see that we belonged together," he finished quietly.

"But I would not be here if it weren't for the war," she replied morosely.

He smiled sweetly, his lashes touching his cheek as he closed and opened his eyes.

"And yes, because of that, I went on that harrowing quest with you for the pearls, never mind the beasts that almost tore us," he added wryly. He took the ring from the box.

"And I killed, for you," his voice was pained once more. He took her left hand.

"And I spent much time knowing this brave, wonderful, vulnerable woman who swept my heart before I even knew I had a choice,"

Her tears were spilling now. _He was always unfair with words,_ she thought.

"And when the Thirteenth Kingdom's soldiers almost caught us, I knew, without a second's hesitation, that I would have lain down my life for you," he said fervently.

She looked into his eyes, his piercing eyes that probed every inch of her face.

"But I'm terrified, Peeta."

He sighed and chuckled. "That was not the answer I was looking for."

"But I am. It's like we're being pushed towards things and we don't even know if we want them."

His face fell. He held her hand tighter. "But do you _feel_ something, Katniss?"

"Of course I do…" and it was her turn to cup his face.

Peeta looked at her, waiting for her to say more, but what she will say she knew would break him.

"But I don't want to marry you because you have no other choice, because you need a wife to pop you an heir, that it's a _duty_ for you," she finished, hurt.

"And when did I say that that's the reason I was asking for your hand?" he asked, reflecting the same hurt.

"Isn't it? And why would you ask if it weren't for the pressure from the King?"

Peeta sighed. His hand wove through her hair gently.

"Katniss, it's not that I don't have a choice. You misunderstand and you get ahead of yourself. Yes, my Lord Father did mention the need for my betrothal, but I thought I made it clear already."

She shook her head, her sight blurring with tears.

"Silly girl, now look what you did to yourself," he said, wiping her tears with his thumb.

"Katniss, I would have still chosen you. Be it in any other time, war or no war, whether I was a prince or the last noble in line for the throne, it would still be you," he said, imploringly. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"But you're not ready, that I can see," Peeta sadly said as he pulled back. And he returned the ring into the box, cutting off the brilliance of the diamonds with the closing of the lid, and sliding it back to his pocket.

She did not have an answer for that.

He seemed to stiffen in resolve as he pulled her in his arms and added, "We will do this the right way, at the right time."

"But what of your duty?"

"You are of far greater importance than any duty I am vested with."

Something in her heart pulled as she broke away from the warmth of his body to look at him.

She could not say the words now but she knew she felt them. They were already buried deep in her.

She decided to show him instead.

Katniss traced his lip with her finger delicately, marveling at its softness, especially when against her own. She moved forward and tilted her head. Peeta was still, waiting for her move and looking at her with his brilliant eyes.

She touched her lips to him and closed her eyes at the same time.

It was gentle. It was pure. It made her ache for more.

She pulled him by his nape, slowly guiding him with her hands.

Katniss parted her lips, seeking his. He was painfully unresponsive, only going as far as she ventured, mimicking her but not taking any lead.

Then she began to kiss him deeply, passionately. And he slowly responded. When his commitment was equal, his hands began sweeping across her waist.

His kiss was ridden with need for her, all the unspoken words of their earlier exchange expressed in the most loving caresses and in the dance of their tongues, their lips.

And that's when she heard the voice again, calling her. The same soft, breathy voice that greeted her when she first came here.

_Mockingjay…_

She ignored it as Peeta pulled her closer, stroking down her thigh to tell her what he wanted.

She straddled him, but they did not part. Their breathing became ragged as their hands explored each other.

_Mockingjay…_

She pushed the voice away as Peeta began to place soft kisses down her neck and one of his hands slowly ascended to cup her breast. His other palm pressed her to him.

Images began to float in her head. It looked familiar. A dusty floor. An unmade bed. A lamp. A few framed photographs.

_The final pearl, Mockingjay._

"Pearl," she muttered.

"Not now, Katniss," Peeta groaned as he continued to ravage her neck as well as the exposed skin of her chest pushed by her corset.

She bent her head down to capture Peeta's lips again. She breathed deeply. Their tongues clashed again. They moaned.

_You need to do this alone, Mockingjay. _The voice persisted in her head.

And the vision in her mind intensified. She recognized those pillows. She had stepped on that rug underneath the bed. She saw the box of the locket.

She pulled back from Peeta. They were both breathless.

"I know where the final pearl is," she said in a low voice.

"What?" Peeta asked, confused. His hands still gripped her hips, his eyes smoky with passion.

_You need to do this alone, Mockingjay…_

"I need to retrieve the last pearl," she whispered.

She accepted what she had to do.

Once she did, she felt a pull and was blinded once more by a bright burst of light.

**END OF PART ONE**

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

And in true Hunger Games style, this story is divided into two parts!

We'll be starting with part two soon. I'm already working on it. :D And I say gird your loins for part two. All the _action_ will be there.

I cannot thank you enough for still being here with me and for patiently waiting for my updates. Thank you to my readers, to those who left a review, and to those who placed this on their alerts and favorites. I can assure you guys that I will never leave you hanging and that my stories are always on my mind, thinking of ways to make it better. To those who asked after my shoulder, thank you so much for your concern! It's getting better now. My therapy is still ongoing but my life's back to normal already.

I will try to update more frequently, but I am working on this alongside my other story, In the Elysian Fields. I am moving early January next year so I'll try to get more chapters out before then.

You can also check out my profile for the dates as to when I would post the next chapter :D

And now, a little gift for you guys who read my ANs :D

**Part 2 Sneak Peek:**

Prince Peeta watched the dying sun give its last rays of light before the horizon consumed it.

The sky was painted in blood. Everything he saw dripped in blood.

He swept back the flaps of the tent to go inside, but a soldier hurriedly called to him, telling him that one of his noblemen had captured a prisoner.

Peeta nodded curtly and dismissed the soldier.

He went to the table in the middle of his tent to drown down some liquor.

He had been looking forward to this day.

His armor hung heavily on his frame. There was never a day anymore that he was without it.

Once outside the tent, the stench of war, of death greeted him.

The sounds were mixed too, from the horses to the hounds to the cackling of fire and the grunts of pain from those with missing limbs.

He walked the muddy path to where they had the makeshift prison.

It was built on more mud, a haphazard structure of sharpened wood and nails.

It had a lone pole in the middle, to which a man was tied.

Peeta walked up to the prison and one of the soldiers opened it for him.

The man was soiled, tied by his arms encircling the pole. His torso was bare. His back had sores and open wounds. He was asleep.

Peeta had a soldier fetch a pail of water and had the man splashed with it.

The liquid ran down his face, removing the grime that had clung.

Then the features were more discernible.

Blonde hair. Gashed eyebrows. Sore cheek.

The man groaned but was awake.

Peeta moved in closer.

"Ah, Prince Gloss," he sneered.

"How foolish of you to have been caught."


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:**

I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, that you're still with me. I know it took so long but this is the reason for it. You read those emails right. There are two shiny new chapters awaiting you. We are kicking off Part 2 with a double chapter update! Yey! I'll leave a longer AN at the end of the next chapter. And I would also like to extend my sincerest thanks to the amazing Ro Nordmann for creating a banner and a cover for Mockings Hall!

Lastly, the chapters would not have been polished to its present state if it weren't for my fantastic beta, Katnissinme. It is with deepest gratitude that I express my thanks to her.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 10**

**Alternate Title: The Final Pearl**

Katniss awoke to a painful crick in her neck. Her face was pressed against a scratchy material that rested against a hard surface, hardly the billowy down of pillows she was now accustomed to sleeping on in the palace. She thought this odd. She did not remember falling asleep, much less retiring to her bed. She wondered now if Peeta had carried her.

The next sensation she felt was a parched throat. She struggled to clear it when a nauseous feeling sprouted from her stomach as though it had been pulled inside out. This was not to be a pleasant morning, she thought grumpily, as Katniss never remembered waking up so painfully.

Without opening her eyes, Katniss tested her limbs. They felt fine, except for the tiredness that emanated from her muscles as well as from her back. What had she done that she felt so tired, she thought.

Her eyes finally opened and her sight rested on the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window, hazy against the light drops of rain. The sky outside was still dark, though the lightness of dawn approached and with it, an early shower of rain so common in the season.

_I must have left the blinds open_, she thought absentmindedly, as she swiveled her head to stretch her neck.

_Blinds._ The palace did not have _blinds_. They were two elements that did not go together. As the fog of sleep left her, her mind started to whizz rapidly, sprinting ahead of her body which was still waking up.

She pulled her head up and found that she awoke resting on the rug in her bedroom.

She was in her bedroom in her house, not at the palace, looking at the smattering of dust between the stubby legs of her bedside table. Pulling her view upwards, the framed photographs atop the nightstand shined merrily underneath the light of the vintage lamp she fought Prim over in a flea market.

Katniss scuttled to get up, looking around her room, the sensation sending jolts of queasiness through her. She decided against standing, for the meantime. The smell of bacon wafted through the room from the crack in her door. The sight of her bedroom was familiar yet disorienting. Very disorienting.

Had everything been a dream? The bangle on her arm and the coldness of the locket against her throat certainly suggested otherwise.

Then it all came rushing back. The reason she was here, in her world. The voice of the fairy. Her quest.

She had to find the final pearl.

Katniss bent her legs to rest on her knees first before standing up. She retrieved her robe that hung from her door to cover her nakedness, an unfortunate effect of crossing the two worlds.

She put her hand against the wall to steady herself as her limbs were still uncoordinated from sleep. As she felt her muscles regain their strength, she tried to remember that first night when she had read the locket's inscription and had been initially transported to Panem.

Immediately she looked around her room for that small, dark box. It was not on the floor. It was not on her bedside table either. She huffed the hair that had fallen into her eyes as she sat on the bed, perplexed.

Katniss looked down at the bangle again. The three pearls rested innocuously, a betrayal of the cost it took to retrieve them. Three pearls whose search had occupied her for weeks in Panem. She remembered the perilousness too clearly, felt as though the sirens still breathed down her neck, as though Peeta's double still had his hands around her throat, as though the soldiers of the Thirteenth Kingdom still hounded her and Peeta. Yet those were not the only dangers that Panem harbored. Yet sitting here, in her unmade bed with her schoolbooks still strewn haphazardly around, Panem seemed such a distant existence. The bangle and the necklace served as her only tangible link to the world she could only conjure in her mind's eye now.

She closed her eyes and recalled the night the locket had changed her life. A sudden inspiration struck her. She bent her head and peeked under her bed, lifting the covers. Her eyes adjusted to the dark view and her head felt heavy from the rush of blood.

There it was though, that little box that had the best chance of containing the pearl. Katniss crawled down from her bed and retrieved it, her arm gliding across the thin film of dust.

She opened the box and the frayed velvet pillow the locket rested against was empty. She lifted this. There, at the corner of the base, was the final pearl. She rolled it between her fingers, relief coursing through her at the accomplishment. When she had placed this in the bangle, the line of pearls complete, Katniss was about to open her locket when another thought birthed itself in her mind.

Her family.

Her Aunt Effie and Prim.

What must they have thought of her disappearance?

But she had a quest, a responsibility, a duty to fulfill. She had not the time to think of sentiments now.

As though to test her judgment, a loud thud dully echoed from the wall of her sister's room. Before she went back, she had to know this one thing, that her family was all right.

Thoughts of how to assuage their worry filled her mind as she crossed the hallway to Prim's room. When she opened the door, Prim was currently in a tangle of blanket and pillows, one leg twisted in the heavy fabric while her body slid in an awkward angle toward the floor, still fast asleep, still snoring softly. Katniss smiled at the scene before her. It always amused her how her sister could sleep like this.

She strode to her sister's bed and slowly lifted Prim's body, which happily gave all its weight to her leaden arms. When she had restored Prim to a more comfortable position, Katniss swept the bangs that fell on her sister's face.

She could not resist. Katniss prodded Prim awake.

She shook her sister a bit more forcefully after a few tries. "Prim," she said. Then her sister started to grunt and wrinkle her forehead.

"Prim, wake up," Katniss added.

Prim groaned.

"Prim get up, I need to ask you something," Katniss said again.

Her sister turned to face her and her forehead folded toward the center in dismay.

"How long was I gone, Prim?" Katniss whispered worriedly. "Is Aunt Effie okay?"

Prim blinked awake, the annoyance clouding her eyes. Katniss forgot how cranky her sister could get in the mornings if she was not woken up gingerly.

So she reached out and hugged her sister tight. "I missed you," she croaked.

When Katniss pulled back, Prim was looking funnily at her.

"Katniss. What are you talking about?" Prim whined, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"I was away, wasn't I? How long was I gone? Did you call Madge? How did Aunt Effie take it?" Katniss asked in near hysterics.

Prim tucked her chin down as she regarded Katniss beadily. She took a deep breath and sat up to rest back on her elbows.

"Are you on drugs?" her sister blurted out incredulously.

"What?" It was Katniss' turn to be dismayed as she sat back.

Prim yawned. "You heard me. You're acting all weird."

"No, I'm not on drugs—"

"'Cause if you are, I totally won't tell Aunt Effie," her sister said, coming up to sit and slouch over her pale yellow comforter.

"Primrose!"

Her sister sighed. "What do you want Katniss? I didn't sleep so much because I finished my Statistics homework by myself because _someone_ didn't finish helping me with it last night." Prim crossed her arms and looked grumpy.

"What do you mean last night?" Katniss was confused.

"You told me right after dinner that you would help me with my homework, you did, but then you never came out of your room again after asking Aunt Effie about that locket."

Katniss sucked in a breath.

_No_, she thought in stunned disbelief.

_No_, she thought again. She was looking at the print of her sister's pillowcase as she tried to comprehend what had happened, her eyes straining.

"Is something wrong?" her sister asked. "'Cause you're acting really weird, way more than usual."

She ignored Prim as she was temporarily robbed of breath.

She was sure she spent weeks, perhaps a month or two even, in Panem. But it had only been a few hours here, in her world, it seemed.

Katniss looked at her sister again, who was still waiting for her reply. Prim's lack of worry about her "disappearance" was disconcerting. She was expecting an entirely different scenario. At that instant, she was bursting with her tale and wanted so badly to tell Prim everything. She wanted to tell her sister of that locket and the magical forest she woke up in, of the world, that dangerous, enchanting world she was sure she had been in, of her role as the Mockingjay, of her quest, the pearls, and the tragedies she had seen.

But looking at her sister's sleepy blue eyes, she found that she couldn't. How would her sister believe her? How would she prove her tale?

She bit back the words and just looked at Prim, swallowing her story and feeling an invisible wall divide them, as wide as the one between her world and Peeta's. Even as her breathing calmed, Katniss had never felt more alone.

When she didn't reply, Prim groaned, clearly unhappy at being awoken, then rolled her eyes and shifted to get back to bed. "Whatever. Now if you don't mind, I would like to snooze for five more minutes before—"

Then the door creaked and their Aunt Effie poked her blonde head in. "Oh good, you're both awake. Time to get up! I have an early meeting today and I couldn't get Leela's mother to take you to school." Then the door closed and she heard Prim hiss, annoyed. She watched as Prim tried to shut her eyes and snatch some last precious moments of sleep.

Katniss was still in a daze when Aunt Effie stormed back to the room after a few minutes and pulled Prim's duvet back before going out the door, her sister complaining loudly of the cold's intrusion. Their aunt reminded them from outside the door as she went down the stairs that one of them should start showering already. The banality of daily life contrasted heavily against the turbulent thoughts in Katniss' mind.

She mumbled to Prim out of habit as she went out of the room that she should go first since her sister always moved so slowly.

Katniss shut the door of her room and locked it.

She could go back now, should go back now. She knew she had to move with urgency. If time moved differently, and if weeks and months could pass in Panem when only hours had expired in her world, then how long had she already been missing from the other world?

Her thoughts immediately went to Peeta and to what he faced alone. She also remembered the immediacy of the soldiers wanting to kill them, their driving force being mere orders from the superiors. She recalled the frigid aloofness of the Chancellor. The faces of Ministers Heavensbee and Crane.

Curiously, they made her hesitate as her hand drew back from reaching for the locket.

Now that she was separated from Panem, her sensible side went into overdrive. She was protected now from the dangers of Panem. She was safe in her world, it reasoned. There were no supernatural beings to harm her or treacherous eyes to bore into her, filled with plots of danger. Why should she go back, her sensible side whispered? Why should she intentionally place herself in the path of destruction as Panem was consumed by war? She could very well die there. Then what would her family do? The voice continued, strumming her fears until the melody surrounded her and drowned out other reasons. It gave her reason to pause, to ponder things over and over. It invited doubt in. It summoned reality back. She was merely a high school student here, preparing for college, and after that a career. Her whole life need not be endangered if she never returned again. Besides, said the voice, she had already been seen. What would her family think if she suddenly disappeared?

All these burning thoughts, fueled by reason and sensibility, clashed against the voice that screamed at her to go back. What about her duty? What about the people who relied on her? She felt as though her head was splitting apart and she only wanted to stand in the middle, undecided, taking time to fully think things through first.

Nothing wrong with that, she thought. It's perfectly normal and rational.

But as she recounted the reasons for not going back, and pitted them against all the reasons she should, Katniss found herself in a stalemate.

She found that indecision was a fog that slithered on, until it had covered her and rendered her paralyzed.

Katniss was unsettled. The seconds ticked by, then the minutes. The smell of Aunt Effie's breakfast wafted through the air and she had not made a decision on where to take that next step forward.

Then an idea hit her. There could be a compromise between the two factions in her head. If months could go by in Panem while only hours ticked by here, then her best chance to satisfy her desire to be in both worlds would be to go to school and read the incantation somewhere secluded, like in an empty restroom. It would give her enough time to fulfill her duty as the Mockingjay in Panem (hopefully) without alarming her family with her prolonged disappearance.

There. Problem solved.

Katniss was finally able to exhale in relief.

As she prepared for school, wearing her uniform, and even cheerily eating breakfast while a sleep-deprived Prim remained sullen, Katniss felt as though her plan was the best way to go. She could very well be back before Aunt Effie picked them up later.

Just as a precaution though, she told Aunt Effie that she'd be riding home with Madge, in case she needed more time.

Yet as she rode in the car and the white stone structure of St. Gertrude's School loomed nearer and she saw her classmates being dropped off, as she traced the locket's outline atop her school's white blouse, Katniss had a nagging thought.

_What about Peeta?_

* * *

She bounded out of the car the second Aunt Effie finished her reminders for them. Katniss went up the steps, past the double wooden doors, and turned right, her leather shoes clacking on the tiled marble floors. The restroom stalls were empty, thankfully. The first bell would ring in twenty minutes and she never had a fondness for Calculus anyway so for her, she would not be missing much.

The thought of Peeta filled her head once more. What would he do then, if she came back to her world and left him again? What about what they shared? How she felt?

She closed the door to a stall and flipped the toilet cover down so she could sit and think. Her rational side sprang into action without hesitation. It didn't make sense to exchange her whole life, everything she had known, for a _boy_, it said.

By this time, Katniss was already mentally worn-out. She quieted the voices in her head as she fished the locket out of her blouse. She would figure out what to do about Peeta when she was in Panem. The more important thing to do now was to go back.

She took a deep breath and flipped the locket open, praying that no student would come in lest they hear her scream if the locket insisted on transporting her in pain once more. She could still vividly remember the light and the burning sensation of the locket.

Katniss looked down at the locket. The sunlight from the windows allowed her to see the inscription perfectly, her breath fogging up the cool metal.

It was time.

She read the inscription shakily, her voice still raspy from the morning.

As she finished the last syllable, she closed her eyes and prepared for the blinding light and the pain.

Nothing came. Nothing happened.

Katniss read the inscription once more. Nothing still.

She tried again and again, until the morning bell rang, signaling the start of classes.

Katniss felt desperate. How could this happen? What should she do now?

She read the inscription one more time, hoping furiously for that light to bring her back to Panem.

Nothing.

In a daze, Katniss opened the stall and walked toward her class. Calculus waited for her, but she was too distracted by still being in this world to even care.

* * *

_What had I done wrong? _she thought. She did nothing differently from last time, and yet she was still here.

The teacher droned on and on about limits and derivatives as a review for their exams, but Katniss paid him no mind.

She had found the pearls, she had read the inscription, she had completed the task set out by the fairy, so what was missing?

Frustrated, she looked out the window and into the expansive field of the school, where the small lake shined like a mirror in the morning. The view reminded her of the lake she and Peeta had swum in as they escaped soldiers hounding them.

_Peeta._

Her thoughts swayed to the golden prince again.

Katniss felt ashamed at how she had cast Peeta aside, even in thoughts. She felt it sear her painfully. The prince had been nothing but caring and protective of her, and loving, she added guiltily, remembering his proposal.

But her thoughts extended beyond her prince. It was back again to Panem, to the plotting and intrigue and politics and greed, to the other players in the cruel and deadly game whose rules she would never know and never play by. She thought of Lord Hawthorne and wondered how he fared in his dangerous task in the Thirteenth Kingdom. She thought of Lord Abernathy and his shrewd mind and wanted to know if he had been able to persuade the King about the war. She thought of Peeta's grieving father. She thought of the other people she had met, like Prince Finnick and Prince Gloss, questioning if they were still alive or if they had been crushed by the war.

Yet her thoughts always circled back to Peeta, and what he had said last before she left. His proposal occupied her mind.

Katniss now wanted to kick herself for not reciprocating, for not even saying how she felt in return. She was so shocked at the time, and indeed it felt fast, but it did not diminish or make false what she felt. But once again, her rational self had an excuse. It was better this way, it said, for if she had fulfilled her duty as the Mockingjay, there was no certainty which world she would stay in. Panem was not her world, it whispered. She was only saving herself the hurt. But Katniss knew that it may already be too late for her.

Of course, as she steadily ignored the Calculus review going on around her, Katniss's mind whizzed to the next important thing to consider, one of the reasons Peeta proposed in the first place: the security of the line of succession.

At once, she felt despair. What if she returned and Peeta was already married, if the king had forced some buxom princess or lady to Peeta so they could produce heirs?

Her mind was considering the worst scenarios possible. Could she still face Peeta with a wife at his side? Possibly a pregnant princess, when it could have narrowly been her?

There was a dull ache in her chest when she thought of this, and an inexplicable anger at the faceless woman who might steal Peeta from her. Because Peeta proposed to her, because his feelings for her superseded any he may feel for some noblewoman. She thought of the other ladies at the Unification Ball who eyed Peeta with barely-concealed interest and appreciation through their fluttering eyelashes and coy smiles. They reeked of schemes and pretension, and in her mind she was clawing at their hazy images.

The thought of Peeta marrying someone powdered and frilly and simpering, of saying the words he had said to her during his proposal to another woman, weighed her down until the bell rang for lunch.

The lamb with couscous would not lift her mood as she took her tray dejectedly, not returning the smile the friendly lunch lady gave her as she handed her the steaming plate. She even passed on the pastel-colored macarons by the dessert station. Madge made sure to get some for her and shared with her as they reached their usual table.

Katniss moved her couscous around her plate with her fork, appetite gone. The chatter of her friends and classmates pattered around her and she moved mechanically to put the food in her mouth and chew and swallow. Madge kept giving her worried glances throughout lunch as she chatted amiably with Georgia and Severine.

The afternoon classes also wore on and Katniss still felt morose. Everything she thought about, her failed return to Panem and her preoccupation with the prince, weighed her down.

Finally, when the last bell rang, Katniss prepared to leave, but Madge reminded her of the school play rehearsals scheduled for that afternoon. She had forgotten, after spending months in Panem, and it seemed so trivial to her. It could be a good time to think more about the pearl's puzzle, though. She had to stop thinking of Peeta.

As the class trooped toward the field where the other seniors were practicing, Katniss made sure to volunteer for the art team who would be responsible for the backdrops and other props. It would afford her more time to think. She disliked singing in front of people anyway.

She sent a quick text to Aunt Effie that she would indeed be late getting home.

The more the clock ticked by, the more Katniss became tense. This was a situation fraught with many complications. It was difficult to think here in the school grounds, too, what with her classmates yelling and singing and practicing at the same time. When the glue for the paper mache clouds and trees had to dry (their group was assigned The Sound of Music), Katniss fibbed to Sapphire, their self-appointed leader, that she was needed for the Archery Team this afternoon. Before her classmate could object, Katniss ran up the small hill overlooking the grounds where the targets had been set-up, winking conspiratorially at Madge who was stuck playing a T-Bird in her group's rendition of Grease.

No one was there at the summit of the hill, and she was glad for it. She had the big shady tree to herself to think, no one to accompany her but the wind and the leaves.

Katniss carefully took out the locket again. It felt warm from the heat of her chest. She sighed again as she opened the locket, the inscription shining in the late afternoon sun. It would have been half a day already since she had returned.

She pushed back the sleeves of her blazer to reveal the bangle.

As she stared at the pearls, she remembered the last thing the fairy told her of the final pearl.

_You need to do this alone, Mockingjay._

The words repeated in her head, a loop that led to a chain of recurring thoughts and guesses.

_You need to do this alone, Mockingjay._

_You need to do this alone, Mockingjay._

_Alone, Mockingjay._

And that was when she knew, when she finally understood. She had to do this alone. She had to let go of her ties to this world. Her heart was not fully devoted to being the Mockingjay as she struggled to find a middle ground, thinking of how she could straddle both worlds. Now she knew: she had to commit to this fully.

Being the Mockingjay, she thought too, was now more than a duty. She was chosen for this, however ill-fitting and ill-prepared for the role she thought she was. It was now her destiny. Despite the dangers, she could not walk away from those who depended on the Mockingjay to save them, the whole Twelfth Kingdom. To abandon her destiny would mean that the deaths of Cicero, the soldier who had sacrificed himself at the Sirens' lair, and Prince Aldran, would be purposeless. No, she had a greater sense of what must be done.

It was a heavy choice to make as it sunk into her. She looked at her classmates from afar, teasing and screaming and laughing. She thought of her family, her sister and her aunt, unknowing that they would say goodbye to her soon. But she needed to do this.

She had decided.

Katniss' thoughts drifted to what Priestess Sae said about the Mockingjay having a weapon. Her eyes flitted toward the rack that held the bows and the big vase that housed the quivers of arrows. Whatever her weapon would be, she figured honing her skills where she already excelled would not hurt.

Katniss felt calmer now, as her acceptance swept over her, and she walked over to the rack of bows and vase of quivers. Everything in her world suddenly seemed brighter, more poignant. She had never noticed how beautiful the light bounced from her school's white stone, or how the sprawling grounds were always a serene state of green, even in winter.

She picked up one of the compound bows and nocked an arrow in place. Katniss appraised her target, stepped back, and aimed. She released the arrow with her breath, watching it slice through the air tautly before landing on the outer perimeter of her target.

Katniss sighed, but she didn't give up. Instead, she worked and worked until her aim was like that from before. She found the rhythm hypnotic. Every arrow she fired was for something she left behind in Panem. She imagined the faces of Ministers Crane and Heavensbee. She remembered the cruel smile of Chancellor Snow. She thought of Prince Aldran's murderer. Her arrows started flying through to the center.

She hit the center of her target twice more before Madge came up to her.

Katniss looked at her closest friend, who was panting slightly as she tread the uphill slope toward her.

"Done singing?" Katniss taunted as she nocked another arrow.

"You're unfair, you horrible liar," her friend accused, looking around and seeing her alone. Katniss chuckled.

"Well, then you shouldn't have quit the Lacrosse team so you would still have an excuse," Katniss replied as she aimed. She stilled her breath. She fired.

The arrow plunged into the heart of the red circle.

Madge launched into applause as Katniss curtseyed. She and Madge always had an easy friendship ever since they had met back in second grade over a lost eraser, the type that was fancy and scented, fancy enough to be fought over. It squeezed her heart but she knew she had to start her farewells for her decision to work.

"I'm gonna miss this," Katniss blurted out. Madge stopped and turned to her with a puzzled expression.

"I mean, when we all go to _college. _It'll never be the same, right?" She had to phrase her sentiments more carefully, vaguely. College was a good euphemism for Panem. Katniss started rearranging the bow and arrows, pulling out the ones she sent flying to the target.

Madge rolled her eyes. "What, like I can't drive to your house on the weekends?"

"What if it's across the country?" Katniss retorted as she walked to where Madge stood.

"There's no internet or cell reception where you'll be?"

And Katniss let out a laugh at that one. "You never know," she said. They walked down the hill together toward their class who was still practicing by the lake.

"Oh, don't forget, we have Casino Night on Friday. That should be something to look forward to, since you always sweep the Baccarat table," Madge added. Katniss only nodded but did not verbally affirm. The future was not very certain now.

Then her friend ran back to her group, leaving Katniss alone to walk to hers.

As she did, she committed this afternoon to memory, the faint rush of the wind, the soft heat of the sun, even the idle, random gossips of her classmates. It was a looping series of images to remember her friends by.

She knew she would do the same later with her family. This was the only way she could go back to Panem.

* * *

When Madge had dropped her off at her house, Katniss already knew what to tell Aunt Effie to mask her absence temporarily when she went back to Panem.

She opened the door to find a tense Aunt Effie talking to someone on the phone while pacing around their living room. They blew air kisses to greet one another, which she found amusing at times. Her stomach grumbled, both from hunger and from anticipation for what she had to do. She decided to calm it with some food.

So it was to her great dismay that when she opened the fridge she was greeted with bottles upon bottles of bright juices.

"What are these?" she muttered.

"Oh, you found them," Prim said as she entered and walked toward the cupboard and took out a box of cereal. "Aunt Effie's trying this juice cleanse before she recommends it to her brides."

"Are these all for her?" Katniss asked as she plucked a bottle containing green juice. The contents clouded at the bottom but billowed toward the top when she moved the bottle, the murky green very unappetizing. Wrinkling her nose as she returned the bottle, she admitted that she would miss her aunt's quirks, too. Katniss' stomach felt queasy again. The sight of the bottles made her lose her appetite, though.

"No," Prim said, guarded. "Some are for me."

"What do you need these for?" Katniss asked incredulously. Prim then launched into a whole explanation of the importance of cleansing. It was like spring-cleaning for the body, her sister said.

Katniss sighed and shook her head. She had to at least correct this before she left.

"Primrose, you're fourteen. You don't need to diet," she said, seeing right through her sister's zen diet spiel.

Then her sister's shoulders sagged. "But I hate my body. I hate my nose. I hate my hips. When will my breasts arrive?"

Katniss looked at her sister with a faint smile, remembering the same sentiments she had when she was Prim's age. The guilt of leaving her family burrowed more, but she fought this.

"Have your classmates been bullying you?" Katniss asked, eyeing Prim thoughtfully.

"No—"

"'Cause you can tell me if they are and I can send them scurrying with my arrows—"

"Oh god, no, please."

"All you have to do is say the word."

"You're so violent, Katniss." Prim muttered.

"Of course not. I'm just the only one allowed to pick on you," she said, flicking Prim's chin upwards with her forefinger before going out the kitchen.

When she reached halfway up the stairs, Prim called to her from the bottom. "So is now a good time to tell you that I ruined your bag?"

Katniss stopped and turned, "Which one?"

"The evening bag, the slouchy black one with glass beads."

Katniss sighed. That was her favorite one, and it was a gift from Madge. She grunted and turned back to trudging up the stairs. Even if she was mildly upset over the bag, she was at least grateful that she could still interact with Prim normally, despite the burden of the secret she carried.

Prim called out to her, before she shut her door, that she was the best sister in the world.

* * *

Her uneasiness was building again as she sat alone in her room.

Katniss straightened one photo frame by her bedside that had toppled down. It was a shiny silver one, with blue pompoms made of yarn on one side, and was Prim's fifth grade art project. The photo inside was when she, Prim, and Aunt Effie first went to the school fair together as a new family. It was one of her fondest yet most bittersweet memories. The pain of losing her parents still thudded dully in her chest at that time, but with it was the hope of a new start, that they had a safety net with their aunt.

All the remembrance was not making her decision any easier.

But then, she thought, everyone said goodbyes everyday when they parted, whether for work or school. What made it unburdened was the assurance of seeing one another again. Yet she knew that with her goodbye later, that certainty would be taken from her. She couldn't know what awaited her in Panem when she went back.

It was a crushing thought, and she had never felt more alone. She knew she needed to give her family a more concrete sendoff. Perhaps a letter would be appropriate.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and it was Prim telling her it was time for dinner.

A strong aroma of spices like cumin and paprika wafted through the air as she exited her room. It became stronger as she went down the stairs, but it was oddly coming from the living room.

There, by the coffee table, was a feast of Persian take out.

"Sorry, sweetie, I didn't have time to cook," Aunt Effie said as she turned to her, coming up from kneeling by the table. Prim was in the process of extracting the koftas from their cardboard boxes.

"But I thought we could use some take-out tonight and just relax and watch something. What do you say?" Aunt Effie asked with a big smile.

Katniss looked at the spread. There was saffron rice dotted with pine nuts and plump raisins, hummus, that parsley salad Prim loved, and tubs of that white garlic sauce she drenched her kebabs in.

"Cool. I'm starving," she said casually.

As she sat down on the big fluffy pillow on the ground and served herself some saffron rice, she turned to her aunt. "You're not feasting tonight because you're going on that juice diet tomorrow, are you? 'Cause you barely survived the lemonade one."

"It's not a diet, it's a cleanse," Prim piped up.

"If you don't feed yourself enough then it's a diet," Katniss retorted.

"Okay, enough you two," Aunt Effie said as she fiddled with the remote. Then the TV sprung to life with the opening credits of their favorite sitcom.

Katniss shook her head and smiled to herself as she filled her plate with the kebab and hummus.

They laughed and feasted, and even Katniss found herself in the moment, not thinking of anything else but the humor that made her stomach hurt and her usually reserved aunt break out in giggles.

When they finished dinner, Aunt Effie went to the kitchen and brought out an apricot and almond cream tart for them to share. Katniss had seconds, and even scraped the almond cream from the crust. It was so good, with hints of vanilla and rum.

She felt her aunt smiling at her. "I knew you'd like this."

Katniss smiled back and took yet another slice of the tart. "Oh Katniss, I'm going to miss you when you go off to college," her aunt said, voice cracking at the end. "It won't be the same without you."

She almost choked on her tart.

That was supposed to be her spiel, but she was glad she did not have to stall anymore.

"But I can't stay in high school forever," she said jokingly and took another bite.

"Oh, I know," her aunt sighed.

"I won't forget you, you know. And besides, there's always video call and chat and whatever. Pretty soon you'll be sick of me calling you," she added in what she hoped was an unassuming tone. She could not afford for her voice to break.

Katniss finished her tart, even though her emotions filled her stomach uncomfortably. She knew it was time and she could not hold off any longer. A swift, vague goodbye was better than nothing, though this was more for her sake. She also sought their forgiveness mentally, for leaving them so abruptly, as her decision overshadowed her familial love. It was a much heavier force that swayed the favor toward returning to Panem, and that was what she could not fight against.

The words tumbled out of her mouth as though she was not the one speaking. She asked Aunt Effie if she could go to Madge's tonight to finish a Physics project that was giving them trouble, saying she could hitch a ride to school tomorrow with her friend.

Her aunt happily gave her permission and she excused herself to fix her things.

Katniss slowly went up to her room, again memorizing her home and all the quaint décor her aunt had been filling it up with. She realized she did like the mismatched theme her aunt had going. Her younger self had not approved before, but it did not matter much now. Every corner of the home held a memory, and she made sure that these would never leave her mind. Her eyes lingered over photos. Her hands touched the smooth metal banister slowly. The last photo she saw, near the top of the stairs, was the one of her family, where her parents smiled happily back at the camera and a younger, more carefree pair of sisters grinned from their parents' embrace.

She closed the door to her room slowly. She picked up her school bag and stuffed it with random books and clothes. She made a show of saying goodbye and going out the door, but snuck back into her room through the trellis by the back part of their house.

Katniss took out her notebook and opened it to a blank page. Before she went back to Panem, as she had decided earlier, she had to at least explain why she was gone. She wrote a letter to her sister.

_Dear Prim,_

_Since you're reading this, it means that you're searching for me because I have not come back. _

_Remember the locket? You asked me one morning why I was acting weird. The locket is the reason. It's a portal to another world._

_Now don't tear this letter!_

_I'm not crazy and maybe someday I can tell you everything. You can't find me because I'm in its world. It's just like the fairy tales we had as kids. They're real: the magic, the splendor, and even the darkness._

_But don't worry for me, I'm safe._

_I love you and I'll see you again. In the meantime, try not to give Aunt Effie too much grief, ok?_

_Love,_

_Katniss_

She tore the page from her notebook, folded the paper, and placed it by her pillow.

Katniss stood in the middle of her room and stared at the locket. She had done what the fairy had told her, she had accepted the responsibility to do her duty alone.

She opened the locket, just as the laughter of her sister and her aunt from downstairs tugged at her resolve once more.

Katniss steeled herself, bent her head down, and read the inscription in a clear voice.

She closed her eyes as she felt the light engulf her, bringing her back to Panem, to her destiny.

* * *

**AN:**

Care to leave me some thoughts, pretty please? This chapter gave me lots of troubles so I'm anxious to know what you guys think :D


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **

I'm giving out a warning here. Dark times up ahead.

I'm serious. Even I got a bit weepy.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 11**

**Alternate Title: Back to the Ashes of Panem**

_"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially."_

_- Ernest Hemingway_

There was no pain at all, and for that Katniss was grateful. Her eyes were still tightly shut, her shoulders still tense, as though anticipating a last, surprising surge of pain.

When none came, she opened her eyes.

She found herself in a forest once more, but it was unlike the one beside the field of gold-tipped wheat she had first woken in before. This forest was cold. The sunlight expired in the giant trunks of the trees before it could reach the needle-covered ground. It was silent, too: not an owl's hoot or a rush of small-footed animals could be heard. The forest felt like the repose of watchful souls.

A voice greeted her and Katniss turned around. "Such glad tidings you bring once more, Mockingjay." She saw the fairy again, the one who met here before, the one who warned about the sirens. She was still the same slight girl whose countenance reminded her so much of her sister that her fingers twitched from guilt.

The fairy walked toward her, carrying a dress spun from gossamer, light as silk. She handed this to Katniss, who slipped it on, a little embarrassed from her exposure. The fairy gave her a faint smile.

"It gives me joy that you have heeded my words, even if it must cause you pain," she whispered softly, taking the arm that wore the bangle. "It is now time for you to be introduced to your weapons, as you have accepted your destiny. But first, you must know what has transpired in your absence."

The fairy softly pulled her towards the outer circle of dark trees. The ground was cool beneath her feet as she stepped on dried leaves and broken twigs.

There were six mirrors before them, and the fairy stopped between Katniss and the leftmost one. There were objects laid out in front of every mirror, and on the first one, a silver flask. It looked familiar.

Katniss picked it up. The flask grew warm on her hand, but nothing uncomfortable. Then slowly it began to turn to ashes on her palm, as though it were a relic finding its end exposed to the air. Katniss's eyes drifted to the mirror where she was distracted by movements inside. It showed a shadowy room with a grand fireplace and stiff wooden chairs. Exquisite furniture around the room supported priceless ornaments. Two men, one garbed in supple leather and fine wool and the other in velvet and ermine, were hunched over on tables. Katniss recognized the man whose gray eyes locked with hers from inside the mirror and she felt a tug at her belly, like a hook pulling her forward, forward, forward. Her surroundings began to be hazy. It felt akin to the moment while she was falling asleep, seeing her dreams already yet still conscious of the outside world. The scene inside the mirror began to sharpen and she was not only seeing anymore but also feeling the heat from the fireplace and her eyes were adjusting to the dimness. Then she no longer felt connected to the ground, to the world outside the mirror, but flew to the man whose eyes were sharp yet tired.

* * *

It had been a long day for Lord Abernathy, and he was tired.

The rain had been relentless, falling around the palace, sliding down the windows and obscuring the view of the inner gardens from the king's study.

He sat at the opposite end of King Owain's desk, the surface filled with documents and scrolls and books, all for the His Majesty's perusal. The king was signing documents and bills, affixing the royal coat of arms into pools of melted wax. They had not had supper. They rarely ate nowadays, now that war was going on beyond their closed borders and he had been preparing the kingdom for it.

Except the king had yet to sign the declaration of war, which was already signed by all of their allies.

When the candles had burned low, he pushed the thick scroll of the declaration towards the king, who sighed tiredly. Lord Abernathy expected this. It had been the same pattern since the new Grand Duke retreated to the Queen's Villa when the Mockingjay disappeared unexpectedly: the king had stalled signing the declaration, and the letters delivered by falcon from their allies had become increasingly urgent.

Yet he had to tread around this matter carefully. The monarch he faced now was different from the one who gathered alliances from other kingdoms, whispering in secret, deploying lords and vassals and his sons into the political field. The crease never left the middle of his eyebrows now and his eyes drooped sadly in the corners. He walked slowly around the palace, haunted by exhaustion, head hanging down with his arms clasped behind his back. This king had been broken. The Chancellor had won this battle.

The rain continued to whip at the windows, the candles continued to leak stout tears into their holders yet King Owain ignored the thick scroll, secured by a handsome leather strap hung with the emblems of war of the other kingdoms. Their allies were growing increasingly impatient, strained each second by the blood draining from their soldiers and the gold flying from their coffers to support the war. The king would soon run out of documents, and it would be during that time that Lord Abernathy planned to continue his game of persuasion.

When at last he had, the king leaned back into his chair and dropped his exhausted chin into his entwined hands, staring at the scroll before him. He stared at Lord Abernathy with a neutral expression. Three days ago, the last time this scene played out, the king simply stood up and retreated to his chambers, leaving Lord Abernathy to pen yet another letter to their allies on behalf of His Majesty, asking for more time.

But their time was swiftly running out. From what he gathered from his spies, the host of their enemies thundered nearer and nearer. He relayed this to His Majesty now, as well as the insistent letter from King Rigel of the Seventh Kingdom. Three days ago it was King Helios of the Fourth Kingdom who wrote. The king's expression remained the same.

Lord Abernathy sighed. It was evident from where the princes had inherited their stubborn streak.

_Prince. They had only one prince now_, Lord Abernathy corrected himself. This prince had not been seen in the palace since he locked himself in his mother's villa, closed like their borders.

Despite the immobility of their royals, Lord Abernathy knew that to prepare for war would be the best choice now. It would be inevitable, a flaming arrow that was about to descend on their kingdom, bringing devastation with it. Their armies were now being prepared, recruits were being gathered, the metals of their mines being expended for armors and weapons. And through this all, Lord Abernathy drank more and more from his trusted silver flask, because they now faced more than one enemy. Another threat also sought their demise, complicating further their tangled situation.

The Chancellor had shown his true intent when the Thirteenth Kingdom invaded, no more resorting to cloaked schemes to weaken the kingdoms. When Prince Aldran's death did not ignite their king's sentiments for revenge, the Chancellor and his allies in the Fifth, Sixth, and Ninth Kingdoms attacked the Eleventh Kingdom and killed Prince Thresh. It was the Chancellor's own son, Lord Cato, who carried out the assassination. The Eleventh Kingdom took this as an act of war and the chance to get rid of Chancellor Snow. In turn, they called upon the Twelfth Kingdom and their allies. Amidst all this, the Thirteenth Kingdom had not relented in their attacks.

It would be a slippery climb for dominance, for survival, in this war. It would be different from what they had prepared for. They were prepared to work underhandedly, but had not anticipated an open war. This is perhaps why the king had yet to join the tumult, having lost two sons within a year of each other.

The king looked up at the ceiling where gold moldings slid over one another, bordering majestic, peaceful paintings. Lord Abernathy stood up and unfurled the scroll, the rustling sound capturing the king's attention as the scroll stopped before him. He looked at it with heavy eyes, his movements slow.

"The war is inescapable, Your Majesty. Your allies await you," Lord Abernathy said, pushing back the ornate pot of ink.

The king withdrew his hands and looked down at the signatures of his allies from the Third, Fourth, Seventh, and Eleventh Kingdoms. "I know," he responded in an aged, faraway voice. "I will be sending thousands of our men to their senseless ends soon, and soon after sending letters to grieving wives and mothers and fathers and kin."

Lord Abernathy fully understood the king's hesitation. It also kept him drinking from his silver flask at night. Chancellor Snow was a clever bastard. He targeted not their alliance's weakness, but their alliance's strength, their pillar, the Twelfth Kingdom. The one which had mines that abounded in precious metals for weapons, the one with the courage to have started the spark. The Chancellor only had to kill one prince to make King Owain falter. Now that two had been slain, the seed of hesitation had taken root.

But Lord Abernathy, desperate, would now aim at his friend's sense of honor.

"So you wish to abandon your allies," Lord Abernathy did not ask but stated.

The king glowered at him. He was playing on thin ice, he knew. This man was still his sovereign and he was but a lord. But now was the time to be ruthless.

"Let us say that perhaps not," Lord Abernathy continued. This was a small victory if the King took offense. "But when do you plan to join? When the Chancellor has crippled the Fourth Kingdom?" Though the gifted Prince Finnick led its powerful host, the only aid it could expect was from the Third and Seventh Kingdoms as it fought the Chancellor's alliance and the Thirteenth Kingdom. The Eighth and Eleventh Kingdoms had already been laid to waste, with the Eighth having endured an interior struggle for power after their king died.

"It's Peeta that I am worried about," the king confessed as he sighed.

"You need not to. You have the finest archers and cavalry in Panem, the richest mines—"

"Yes," the king interrupted, finally looking at him. "But what good would they be to my only son when I ask him to lead the war I have created? I am ashamed to visit my wife's ashes and tell her that I shall be sending her youngest to face the fury of my enemies. I buried two of my sons already. You possess no heirs, Lord Abernathy, and I do not expect you to understand."

He did not immediately respond. He knew the king was displeased. But Lord Haymitch persisted. "I think of the kingdom's people as my heirs, and my legacy to them would be their continued welfare," he said. He had to force the King to see this again, despite his tragedies. Lord Abernathy saw the tension between what was good and what was of value. War was despicable, a crime, yet it was essential to their kingdom's survival.

The king expelled an uneasy breath, a hand spotted with age reaching out to straighten the scroll.

"When did this start?" The king asked vaguely, but Lord Abernathy knew to what he referred to.

"The answer eludes me. Maybe with your son, Prince Matthis, when the Chancellor's greed first appeared. When the Chancellor ascended to power. When our predecessors signed the Treaty at Mockings Hall. We were all bound to crash into one another." He saw himself nearing his goal, seeing the king regain his resolve.

"I still have so much to teach him," the king sighed, then a racking cough overtook him. His illness had returned.

When the fit subsided, Lord Abernathy noticed that the rains had stopped. The king reached for his seal.

"Do you regret it then?" he asked when the king had signed, his eyes taking on a steely look.

"No," King Owain replied as Lord Abernathy took the scroll from him and attached their emblem of war. Slowly, the king he knew, the one who was unafraid to make the difficult choices, came back. They were both similar. That was why he was here as the king's most trusted adviser.

"Why?"

The king was beset with cough once more, drops of blood splattering onto his palm.

"Because I trust that the Mockingjay will return, and I have faith that my son will be saved."

The king rose and Haymitch bowed as the monarch passed, retreating to his chamber. He thought of what the king said about faith. It was a most unusual answer from the hardened sovereign. Faith had not a home in Lord Abernathy. He believed men were men, animals with desires that colored their actions, as he had imparted to Prince Aldran before. He preferred to read them by what they did, by what they desired, than to gamble with faith.

That was why he was still here, why he was a superb strategist and politician.

That was why he was so tired.

* * *

Katniss jolted backwards from the first mirror. She was back outside it, no longer in the mind of Lord Abernathy. The experience going back was a peculiar sensation, like a bucket of ice water had been upturned over her head.

She took a few calming breaths to center herself once more and digest what she had seen.

The war, it seemed, had reached her prince and the kingdom she was destined to save.

She touched the mirror once more, the figure of Lord Abernathy inside, arranging the scrolls and bills tiredly, alone. His dull stare indicated a suspension of the heavy thoughts plaguing him.

She looked at the fairy to her side, asking in silence if it was time to move to the second mirror. The fairy nodded.

On the ground before a mirror was a beribboned lock of golden hair. The ribbon was exquisite and the strands still lush and silky. It must have belonged to a beautiful woman. Like the flask, it grew warm on her hands then turned to ashes.

In the mirror, Katniss saw a prison cell, no bigger than the width of a person's arm. In the corner sat a figure, pitiful and shaking, head bowed against its folded knees. When it looked up, Katniss let out a gasp. The woman was familiar, was once one of the most beautiful princesses she had seen at the Unification Ball. Her cheeks were full then but gaunt now, and she was swathed not in silk and pearls but smudged with dirt and cloaked in a rough-spun cloth. Her regality had been drained from her, yet Katniss sensed a spark in her eyes, such gentle eyes that connected to her and drew her in.

* * *

Princess Cashmere looked at her nails, at the gray dirt that caked underneath the uneven edges where she had used her teeth to trim them. Her nails were jagged and broken, her skin chafed from the chains that bound her, and red and cracked from the biting cold to which she was unaccustomed. Her hair, once golden and lush, was now gone. It had been chopped with a dull knife from her head. Even if she mourned it, it was a better alternative to the lice that infested this prison.

She was confined to a filthy prison, the opposite of the sprawling palace she grew up in. She was robbed of her rank here in the Thirteenth Kingdom. She was reduced to a number on a list, on a piece of parchment, ticked by the guards and wardens. She was a laborer, a prisoner, wrapped in dirty burlap clothing. She sobbed in her dreams as the exhaustion of labor chilled her bones.

Princess Cashmere now sat in a corner but lifted her head at the source of sudden light. It was a rare day that the clouds let the sun through. It shined through the bars of her dirty cell.

A squeak to her right announced the mice crawling through the crevices. She heard its companions squeal as the other prisoners caught and ate them, tearing through the rodents with their teeth. Then the fever would come rushing through the other prisoners, delivering them to death. She could not blame them. The last meal she had eaten was two days ago, a broth with stale pieces of bread floating pathetically at the slimy top. It had tasted like boiled leather.

It was times like these, when her stomach clenched in pain from emptiness, that she wished she had eaten more at the Unification Ball, her last night of splendor. She recalled the music, the laughter, and the grandeur, all against the backdrop of an exultant air. She was always the prettiest woman in the ballroom, elegant, graceful, and smiling. The noblemen and monarchs stared at her and asked for a dance. In every ball, she was drunk in the triumph of her beauty. But these thoughts were of no value to her. She did not need a looking glass now to see what she had become: gaunt, pallid, and unlovely.

While the light still shined, Princess Cashmere crawled to the opposite wall, the petrified muscles in her legs protesting the movement. She felt around for her pebble, and with a feeble stroke, marked the number of days she had been here, since the soldiers caught her in the Capitol.

Her thoughts flew to her brother, who was perhaps hiding, if he still lived. Her foolish, loving brother and what he had done. She never understood the reasons for his actions. She blamed him for what happened to her, angry that he sentenced her to this ordeal. It would be especially strong after she had been whipped, or had been toyed with by the prison guards. She knew her father despaired greatly at what Prince Gloss had done. She was sure there was no mending with the Twelfth Kingdom. Their allies had abandoned them when the Thirteenth Kingdom turned their fury to their land. They were alone as their cities and villages fell and their fields burned.

She thought of the man she had been betrothed to, Prince Aldran. Though she never knew him beyond the courtesies of Capitol engagements, she could not help but mourn for the life she would have had with him, perhaps as queen when he was king.

But she reminded herself unhappily that everything had gone, as impermanent as ink on watery parchment. It was washed away by the choices of everyone around her but her, as it had always been for an obedient princess.

She knew, when her usefulness to the Thirteenth Kingdom had expired, that she would be executed, just as they had done to the King and Queen. They were hung outside her prison, her small window offering a most cruelly perfect view. There were no ceremonies, no final words from the two people from whence she came. The platform gaped wide and the thick rope snapped their necks, the chains around their shaking feet weighing them down to the earth. Princess Cashmere could not breathe as she cried, as though a thousand boned stomachers compressed her body. She broke her nails scratching the walls in her grief.

Another noise to her back indicated that the guards were preparing for the late afternoon shift, where she was included.

The sunlight shone brighter and she stepped to look out the bars of her window, something she had not done since her parents's execution. The brilliant light shone on a tiny sapling growing by the dirt in the window. It was a plant with three-clustered leaves, a wishing plant back in her kingdom, rare and sought by children who believed in wishes and chased dragonflies in the field. It was cruel of it to have grown here in her prison, yet she indulged anyway. It was a respite from her steely resilience, one she put on when she stepped outside her cell.

She began her wishes. One was for her foolish brother, for his safety, wherever he was.

Her second wish, as a menacing guard pulled at her chains for the shift and her neck snapped painfully forward, was for her family's enemies, the Chancellor, their sniveling allies, and this wretched kingdom, to burn. If only her fury could fan the blaze she had in her mind.

Her sight had to adjust as they were led out of the prison. She saw the snowy cliffs to her left where the land stood tall against the sea.

As she waited for the chains to be unlocked, she remembered her little game. Princess Cashmere had one more wish left.

As impossible as it seemed, she wished till the marrow in her bones quaked to take control of her life once more.

And then she was hit by inspiration, perhaps madness, but she had not a care. Her last form of control, her final act of rebellion, would be to take her own life. It was hers to live and now it was hers to take. She would not let her enemies take this from her, as they had taken everything else. She had but one chance to do this before the guards caught her.

As these thoughts slithered through her, her body felt heavy, and she began to move with greater dignity than before, no longer hunched with hopelessness. She would die nobly, as any royal should. She ran to the cliffs, her legs burning but her movements smooth, expressing her feelings of desire and freedom. The wind carried her. The cold no longer shackled her feet.

The guards shouted angrily, running to her, but the lines of lethargic prisoners slowed them.

And as Princess Cashmere fell from the cliffs, like a graceful stone dropped to the earth, she felt a heaviness pull her, the wind whistling past, until the ocean claimed her and she was free.

* * *

Katniss's hand was over her mouth as she stifled a cry. She escaped the scene the moment Princess Cashmere's feet left the snowy cliffs. Inside the mirror, Princess Cashmere's body broke against the rocks. Katniss shed emphatic tears for the woman who died alone, who felt unloved and deserted. She thought of Prince Gloss, if he knew what his actions would cost his sister. Princess Cashmere's body floated against the waves before it sunk to the depths of the sea.

Katniss trembled, but she knew she had to persevere. The fairy was already waiting for her at the third mirror, a small shell, dark and shiny and curling towards its middle, lay on the ground. Inside, the fractioned light of the moon shined on a cloaked figure. She looked at the figure more closely and saw the hooded eyes of a man who had saved her more than once, whom she owed.

* * *

It was inevitable to disobey his king, he thought, as Prince Finnick rode into the night.

He preferred this ungodly hour, especially since he had escaped his duties. The concealment of the night offered him his best chance to cover more ground. He grasped the reigns tightly, desperately.

His faithful stallion galloped against dirt, against mud and puddles, jumped over fallen logs as the trees and bushes were reduced to a blur. Despite his father's orders to lead their host to attack the Sixth Kingdom in the south, Prince Finnick rode north, alone, to the Eighth Kingdom, to where Princess Annelis was.

_To Annie._

_Annie._

He found a quiet enclosure to rest for a few hours and allow his horse to recuperate and graze. That night he dreamt of Annie, as he often did these days. They had met in their younger days, a spoilt little prince and a shy yet charming princess. Their parents had intended them to be betrothed. They met every year, for a month. It was disastrous at first, since young Prince Finnick wanted to play with his wooden sword and make-believe horses and Princess Annie wanted to run in the meadow. He often played tricks and made Annie cry. It was his goal every time they met, to see how many times he could make Annie cry.

Then one year, it changed.

He sought Annie out to play. They rode down the curling banisters of the grand staircases in his palace and in the afternoon, Annie would read to him to practice. Her favorite story was that of a bold warrior who lost his sight taunting a troll. It was not a very smart story, but Prince Finnick let her be, listening patiently. He gave her a gift of a shell he had found by the shore, plucked from the sea. She smiled as she accepted it and Prince Finnick decided he liked her smile.

Then one year, they learned how to dance.

It was a peculiar year for Prince Finnick. His voice was cracking and he was growing and growing. He would soon reach his father's height. When he saw Princess Annie that year, his first thought was that he had never noticed how her bodice curved inwards to shape her waist, where he had to put his hand as they danced.

When he did, and saw Annie's freckles, and the strands in her hair made light by the sun, when he could smell the faint scent of orange flower from her, as she smiled shyly and placed her hand in his and rested the other in his shoulder while a smarting lady corrected their posture, Prince Finnick thought Princess Annie captivating.

From then on he looked forward to their month together.

When they both entered the Council, Annie was his source of calmness, the balance to his flare when the other members had become unbearable or the Chancellor too harsh. They spent secret moments together, hiding from the world, sharing caresses and bubbling laughter.

Prince Finnick could not wait to marry her.

He always dreamed the same dream, always of their time together.

When dawn came, he cantered carefully. He passed through the Eighth Kingdom's abandoned villages. He had heard where the Thirteenth Kingdom came from, a snowy wasteland to the far north. As he passed yet another barren farmland he thought, had they brought their curse of the land with them?

Thoughts of the hostile force brought forth thoughts of war, which the Twelfth Kingdom had finally agreed to join. He thought of Prince Peeta, the gentle soul, and the humanity he had to shed, as Finnick had done when he first cleaved an enemy in half. But he had faith that Annie would restore whatever he had lost. She always had.

He had to reach her soon. The noble who won the throne in the internal war when King Fergus died was a tyrant, a long-time enemy of Annie's father. This was the reason he had rode out in the night, leaving his soldiers, in the hope of rescuing Annie.

Tomorrow he would arrive at the castle where she was imprisoned. He had already sent a spy to negotiate with an old guard. But tonight, as he rested one more time without Annie, he would dream of her again, of what he would say to her once reunited. He dreamt of touching her, of hearing her whisper his name in pleasure.

Then dawn came.

The stone castle, a tall and narrow angled structure, loomed high on a hill at daybreak. Prince Finnick tethered his horse to a tree and entered through a passage concealed in the moat.

It smelled unpleasantly in the dungeons. The malodorous mix of human sweat and waste invaded him, lingering on his leather doublet and riding trousers. The old guard who would lead him to Annie met him at the end of the passage and gave him a feeble torch. They waded through the dark water in silence, pressing their hands against the wall of the castle's foundation. They passed the torture chambers that reeked with blood, the echoes of screams sticking to the walls as much as the blood. They also passed the dungeons, and this confused Prince Finnick. Where were they keeping his beloved?

The man continued on, and he knew he was running out of time. These morbid halls would fill with more guards soon. They came out of the dungeon and into the slick stone path with a screech of the iron gate. They walked the upward slope where another tower and another gate waited. Prince Finnick was getting exasperated. He considered doubling the bribe.

The man signaled to have the portcullis lifted and they entered an empty square. He bowed and left. Prince Finnick was confused. But his question died on his lips as turned his eyes upward, to the spikes on the opposite wall.

The guard did lead him to his Annie, to what was left of her. He stumbled to the wall, not caring who saw him. Another guard approached him, a kind old man who whispered to him that he must hasten to leave, for not all guards here would honor his status as a prince. But the words did not hold any meaning as he neared the wall.

Annie's head was mounted on the tallest spike, a mockery to her status as a princess. She was not alone. The other heads also rotted, the skin melting like wax. Annie's beautiful hair had been bluntly chopped. A crow had pecked her eye out. He could still feel the shyness in them."

The guard beside him spoke in a low tone that Princess Annie never bowed to the tyrant, insisting she was the rightful queen even as her allies abandoned her, fighting silently until the end while wrapped in the darkness of the dungeons. He said she only saw the sun again the day she departed this world. The last to be executed, she gracefully laid her head on the coarse wood of the block where blood from the other prisoners who had died thickly dropped. The guard said she faced the sun and whispered his, her beloved's, name.

The unbearable sight made his knees give out and he fell in front of her, beseeching forgiveness. Prince Finnick wept bitterly. He was too late. All the regrets flew through his mind. He should have departed earlier. He should never have hesitated to disobey when his father first gave out orders to not interfere. He should have married her sooner and he could have saved her.

Her severed slender neck made him want to evaporate into the clouds and drift far away from here, from this unspeakable pain. But he was chained to her remains in this cloudy morning, lungs empty of air, eyes burning.

He heaved and choked in pain, for he would only see Annie in his dreams now.

* * *

Katniss's head hung low, her hand sliding down the mirror as inside, Prince Finnick pitifully struggled against the guards, screaming his sorrow, calling out Annie's name. She had felt as burdened as he did. It was a searing pain that the heart never forgot.

There were three other mirrors, but she did not know if she could handle the tales they contained. She swallowed thickly as she saw the next object in front of the fourth mirror, a delicate chain where a filigree of a golden tree hung. She had to force her feet to move.

This mirror showed another princess, vaguely familiar, as the dust from the necklace fell to the earth from her palm. She had never met this one, but she had heard of her formidable reputation. Her courage radiated from her eyes, and Katniss found that she could not look away. Katniss wished she could draw strength from them as they drew her in.

* * *

The first snowflake fell, slowly at first, swaying, and landed on the dark hair of the noble in front of her. Soon, more of its sisters followed, showering the doublet with sprinkles of ice.

Princess Johanna never liked the cold, especially the frigid air in this dismal Thirteenth Kingdom. She had never seen the landscape so barren, so devoid of color and life. There was always a thick mantle of snow, beautiful yet treacherous. The purity of the scene, when the land was covered with snow, first mesmerized her. Yet when she saw nothing else, the coldness began to creep on her, and the snow lost its beauty.

The snow steadily fell now, and she felt her ears numbing. She was lost in thought, but the din of the crowd brought her back. They stood to the back of a large balcony, with Queen Alma and her loyal nobles in the front. The queen addressed her subjects, recounting their brave army's exploits in Panem, on the kingdoms where she had friends and kin. The queen, in her steady voice, promised more for their kingdom, more glory, more gold, more food, sustenance for their next generation. And she also pledged power and dominance over the nation that had turned its back on them, had exiled them thousands of years ago. Queen Alma vowed retribution, swift and merciless.

As the faceless mass of people cheered their sovereign, Princess Johanna's thoughts were of her younger brother. Surely her Lord Father, having no one else, would have Prince Gustav lead his war. But Gustav was in that state where he was yet to be a man but was no longer a boy. She worried deeply for him. She was supposed to lead their kingdom's armies as its heir. She was the one her Lord Father discussed strategies with, debated policies with, and she had always impressed him with her responses. Instead she was here, deep in their enemy's lair, masquerading as a servant. The rough wool of her uniform made her skin itch. Her necklace, a gift of from her grandfather, rested against her chest and was her only token of home.

She looked to her left and saw the tall brooding form of Lord Hawthorne. She knew he was uncomfortable with the Queen's pronouncements. He hid it but she could still perceive it from the tightness in his jaw.

It had been weeks since she had landed in this frigid kingdom with Lord Hawthorne. The noble had set out to work immediately, scouting villages and befriending peasants and elk herders. He was soon able to secure both of them positions in the royal household, after showing a high-ranking noble's page how good he was with writing. Lord Hawthorne was to be a scribe while she, a Grand Duchess, was to serve as a maid in the palace.

They had adopted different names. Gale took his father's name, Cassius, while Johanna adopted her mother's, Vlada.

And she was called twice in this name before she responded. The Lord Chamberlain, displeased with her inattention, sent her away to attend to her other duties. She bowed low. It was not the curtsey she was accustomed to, but one she had seen her own maids grace her with, for she too was but a maid here.

Before leaving the balcony, she saw two other maids giggling and glancing at Lord Hawthorne. He already had a reputation for bedding women. He did this, though, to gather information about the Thirteenth Kingdom, to get whispers and secrets here and there that might have only fallen on the walls had they not been picked up by passing servants too insignificant to be minded. The maids were a deep spring of knowledge, and it was Princess Johanna who suggested this to Lord Hawthorne. He was at first hesitant, his chivalrous side aghast at the thought. But they had no time, she reminded him. Every passing day that they knew nothing was a waste of time and it would not help their kingdoms. She also reminded him of his duty here, of what Lord Abernathy expected of him. Lord Hawthorne saw no other alternative, and he went to work quickly, his first night yielding the secret passages of the palace as well as the shifts of the guards. Subsequent nights produced knowledge on how large their army truly was or where their ships sailed. They also knew now how many nobles were truly loyal to their Queen, how some had planned a covert seize of the throne but failed, how the Queen was served loyally by Commander Boggs, and how the Queen had one treasure she would burn the world for.

Princess Johanna walked the cold stone passages of the palace. It was unlike her home. This palace was set high in the jagged mountains, narrow, tall and with many towers, many spiraling stairs to reach the peaks. She climbed one and at the top, opened the heavy wooden door. A young, fragile prince sat on a blanket by the floor, surrounded by his wooden toys and books.

This was her favorite part of the day.

"Good morrow, Prince Nim," Princess Johanna greeted.

The boy smiled, the apples of his cheeks lifting. He had crooked teeth at the bottom.

"Good morrow, Vlada. Have you come to read to me today?"

Princess Johanna moved and arranged the boy's toys to the side. Prince Nim's sharp, dark eyes followed her. "Perhaps another day, my prince. I only have orders to tidy your room today." When she had done so, she turned to face the boy to find him handing a small book to her.

"Please. You have not finished your story. I would very much like to know how it ends," the young royal said. He pleaded so earnestly with his eyes, such expressive eyes that betrayed all that he felt, that Johanna gave in.

She sat the boy in his bed and knelt by his front while she flipped the pages of the book. The boy could read, very well in fact, with her tutelage. He had a governess and a tutor, but they were useless, she discovered one day. The prince had difficulty learning from them. She pitied his forlorn countenance so much so that one day she could not resist helping. This was dangerous though, for her and Lord Hawthorne, for how could a lowly maid have any knowledge of reading? But she made a game out of it for the prince's sake, that she would read to him and teach him but he was not to tell anyone.

She grew to be fond of the boy, who had a sweet temperament and bore none of his mother's severity and callousness. His smiles and laughs were freely imparted in the afternoons they spent. He gave her small, fragile flowers he plucked from their gardens.

When it was time for his nap, Princess Johanna sang softly to him a lullaby her mother sang to her, while she slowly stroked his forehead. As the boy slept peacefully, Johanna had a fleeting, vile thought.

He would be so easy to kill.

He was vulnerable and open and trusting. His kingdom's enemies would exchange their army to be in her position now.

And yet, as the boy dreamt and the winter sun shined bright through the window and the wind hummed against the glass, she knew she would never be able to do it. Her sentiments went against her strategic mind, her loyalty to her kingdom, though it was in harmony with her conscience.

As she walked out the door, the choice was easy for her. There had to be a line drawn. There had to be someone spared.

* * *

The small prince inside the mirror slumbered peacefully as the woman left. Katniss closed her eyes and calmed herself. It was always disorienting to return. When her breaths had settled, Katniss thought hard to remember Princess Johanna's face at the Unification Ball.

It seemed silly now, that she thought ill of the princess once because she talked much too coquettishly with Peeta. It seemed trivial now, with everything she had seen.

There were only two mirrors left and Katniss grew more apprehensive. Surely the events could still grow worse? She knew not if she could take anymore. A menacing dagger lay by the foot of the next mirror.

She did not recognize the man inside. He had a weather-beaten face, cropped hair with a smattering of white, and lips set in a hard, thin line. His eyes were too cold and gray.

Katniss swallowed when she saw where this person stood. She dreaded what she would experience as that familiar feeling extracted her once again. A tangy scent invaded her nose.

* * *

All Commander Boggs could smell was blood. It never left him. It drenched him now, tarnishing his armor, settling into the etched grooves in the design that befitted his commanding status.

His armor protected him, and it showed the stark contrast between him and the foot soldier gasping at his feet. The young man did not even have chainmail, only sewed pieced of hardened leather common among recruits from their impoverished villages.

Commander Boggs dug the hilt of the dagger deep into the soldier's chest, the body lurching from the force, the mud slick with the flow of blood. This soldier lay atop another dead soldier. A few more limbs also stuck out from the pile of tender, dead bodies. The air was fetid with dying breaths, humid with the last tears of life, and quaking with bitter regret.

The battle was over and it was time to kill the dying, spare them the agony of life slowly pouring out from them. They had won against the auxiliary host of the Third Kingdom, unfortunate enough to encounter them. They needed to win here to gain passage for their attack on the Sixth Kingdom.

He knew the kingdoms of Panem also fought against one another. It was another tactical advantage they had. Instead of fighting a whole nation, factions were easier, yet it took a toll all the same on their soldiers. Boggs had to plan this war with meticulous precision. Their resources were limited, as were their soldiers. The queen wanted a grand display of their brute force. He knew it would be better to attack from seemingly many sides at random times to confound the enemy. It took many nights and many arguments with the queen before she conceded to his strategy and they launched their attack.

Boggs pulled out the dagger from another body, this time of a Third Kingdom's soldier. He looked around the devastation of the day. Horses were impaled on the sharp stakes his men had built. Arrows were still embedded in their jugulars. The smoke from the fires mingled with the smell of excrement.

He remembered the glory of war he read in old books as a boy. But war was never glorious. Those who penned the stories knew nothing of glory and knew nothing of war.

The commander saw his other men were doing the same as he, killing the enemy and the comrades left in need of a quicker death.

He would need to send a letter to Queen Alma, updating her of their hollow victory. He had just received another letter from her, one that needed his reassurance. The queen was growing increasingly paranoid from the internal conflict with her beloved nobles. The alcohol she consumed with alarming frequency fueled it. She dealt with two wars as well. Everyone fought more than one enemy, it seemed.

The next soldier he came upon, gasping and gurgling with blood, made his veins turn to ice. It was his nephew, his sister's son, so eager to see the might of war and enamored with the stories of conquest he grew up with. The boy, no older than fifteen, was pierced with three arrows and had a deep gash by his shoulder. His dark hair was matted to his forehead, eyes quivering in pain. Ill with remorse, he found it most difficult to plunge his dagger into his nephew's heart and watch as the life left his eyes.

He worried over his sister. He worried over his soldiers and their supplies. He worried over many things as he led this war. And it would never cease until a victor was proclaimed. He cursed himself for never proposing another solution. And yet, as he took another fluttering life, he knew he had to move forward. He was left with his duty to carry out this war and this he would do so everything would not be for naught.

He chanced upon another soldier, and he thought about what it would feel to die. What would it be like to have your possibilities, your life, cut short by an enemy's chance swing? To know that you have chosen this path of bloodshed and you were now paying for your lapse of reason? To have nothing but the cruel want to live, and yet to be denied that hope. The same thoughts must have run through this soldier, but it was too late for him. Boggs used his dagger to carve a deeper gash on the soldier's neck, ending his breaths.

One day, he thought, as a bleeding soldier was carried past him, the pain caused here would cease, but until that too passes, as everything did in the world, the war would rage on. They clashed on this field hoping to win over the other. He knew not what motivated their enemies, but their war was fueled by their need for more land, for more arable land their children could feed off of, so the hunger would no longer haunt their sunken cheeks. They fought for the hope of a better future, and the enemies they encountered fought for theirs as well. War, it seemed, was never more poignant than when it was a battle of hope, even if it sprang from such a wretched source.

Yet in the end, there could only be one victor, and even if the price to be paid was the blood in his veins, he swore, as he looked at the dead that lay as far as his eyes could see, that the victor would be them.

* * *

Katniss clutched the frame of the mirror. Though the man inside was full of steely determination, this did not bolster Katniss. She felt the opposite, drained and weary.

There was one more mirror left, and perhaps, it would show her the person she so desperately wanted to see.

This mirror was different. It shimmered. As Katniss bent over to pick up a stubby piece of charcoal by her left feet, the fairy always close behind her, she could see the familiar hallways of Peeta's home. It was as she had left it. The marble pillars stood thicker than her arms held wide, towering over everything. The dizzying patterns on the floor. The gilded overlays in the walls. The painted ceilings. She reached out to touch it, and to her surprise, the mirror turned liquid, like in dreams, allowing her to cross the divide. It felt cold.

Then she was in the palace, alone. The light of the sky shining through the enormous palace windows made everything glow with a passionate beauty. After everything she had witnessed, she could not enjoy the warmth it imparted. She had come to know the leaden truth of war and the glorious Panem she had known had taken a bow in favor of a more sinister face. Everything had shifted. She felt adrift from her earlier resolve for she had not expected to see what she had. It was though she was suddenly plunged in a dark room, fear crawling through her. It made her question, again, her decision to return, her survivalist tendencies growing stronger.

But the clacking sound of tiny feet rounded a far corner and the sound reached her ears, interrupting her thoughts. The footsteps grew louder and Katniss turned in time for a child, a golden child with a head full of bouncing blonde curls and bright blue eyes, to race towards her. She was invisible though, and the boy did not collide with her. He continued running and running, yet Katniss knew who this boy was. Those curls would recede to waves, yet his eyes would remain the same shade, unmistakable even from afar.

Tiny Prince Peeta's chubby legs stomped through the marble tiles while he played a game of not stepping on the lines between tiles. Every time he did, he would swing his head and look around to see if anyone had seen him, little fists curled and clasped over his mouth to subdue his giggles.

She must be seeing Peeta's dreams or memories. Katniss's heart swelled at the innocent sight. But a voice in her head told her to hold back, that this would not bring her any good. So she did, but with a tinge of sadness.

Prince Peeta reached out for the door at the end of the hallway and Katniss followed, covering the ground in half the time young Peeta did.

Inside, Katniss saw the king and Lord Abernathy discussing and stopping as Peeta closed the door. Lord Abernathy gathered the scrolls from the King's desk as King Owain turned to face his youngest son.

Prince Peeta stopped by a jeweled box resting on a table, opened the lid studded with gems and pearls, and took two small mounds of enrobed candies. He put one confection in each hand and turned towards his father, who was waiting for him behind the desk. Peeta gurgled a laugh and stopped a few feet from his father, who smiled in anticipation.

"Ready?" the boy asked.

The king smiled indulgently. "One," he said.

Peeta laughed again, accidentally crushing one of the candies in his hand by the sound of cracking sugar.

"Two," Peeta added, his eyes twinkling.

"Three," the king said, and Peeta crouched down on his chubby legs then jumped towards his father's arms, where the boy fit perfectly.

Peeta rested his head against the soft fur collar of his father's doublet, sitting on his lap, and opening his fist to reveal the candies he took. He smacked his right hand straight to his mouth, and while chewing loudly, offered the contents of the left to his father, who thanked him and ate the confection. The king smiled at his son while chewing, and Katniss's heart ached at the young boy's unbridled happiness.

The king asked his son if he was doing well by his governess, and Peeta nodded politely. Then the boy pushed himself off his father's chest to look him in the eye.

"I came here because I wanted to tell you I have a secret," Peeta confessed while grinning toothily, teeth covered in chocolate.

His father swiped the mop of blonde curls that fell to his eyes. "Is that so, young prince? Is your Lord Father privy to it?"

Peeta nodded eagerly. "Of course!"

"Then what is it?"

"Have you heard of the Mockingjay?"

Katniss stilled.

King Owain smiled knowingly. "Of course I have. What do you know of the Mockingjay?"

"Governess said that she's a legend, that she will come here with three signs so we will know."

"A she? How do you know the Mockingjay is a girl?" The king asked curiously, offering a glance at Lord Abernathy on the other side of the room. Katniss saw Lord Abernathy smile indulgently.

Peeta turned to the king with wide blue eyes. "That's my secret! I saw her already. I get dreams of her every night," Peeta whispered. The king broke out into another knowing smile.

"I'll show you," and Peeta reached out his hand for an extra scroll in the king's desk. He produced a cloth-wrapped charcoal from his pocket and proceeded to draw a stick figure of a girl with wings. A castle was in the background and the sun shone from the corner. He took the scroll from the table and showed his father.

"See, I saw her."

The doors suddenly burst to reveal Peeta's two older brothers. They gave the immediate impression of setting out to taunt their brother. They were confident, as young princes were with their futures ahead of them. They were almost identical to the youngest, with blonde hair and jewel-like blue eyes. The taller one must be the eldest, and the last to enter was Prince Aldran. Katniss's stomach lurched at seeing the middle prince and the violence that awaited him in his end. The two brothers spotted their youngest, and the onslaught began.

They teased their brother about the Mockingjay, of its improbable existence. The color was high in his cheeks as Peeta protested vehemently. But he was no match for two older brothers taking turns hurling their words and soon, little Peeta was crying.

Unable to take the jeers, he jumped from his father's lap, running and pushing against his brothers. "No! She's real! I saw her!" Peeta cried as he ran past the two. Lord Abernathy picked up the crying child and carried him out of the room, while the king lectured the two eldest who remained.

Katniss chose to follow the noble and spared a glance at the closing view as the King reproached his other sons.

She followed Lord Abernathy, seeing familiar tapestries and marble pillars. She was careful to keep her distance even though she was invisible, for she felt as though she were intruding.

Peeta's cries whittled down to breathy sobs the farther Lord Abernathy walked. Her eyes never left young Peeta's face, which was tucked into the shoulder of Lord Abernathy.

The prince spoke after the hiccups had subsided.

"Why don't they believe me Lord Haymitch?" he asked quietly.

"Because they're growing up, my prince," the noble replied.

"But even when I grow up, I'll still think she's real."

They turned to another corridor and stopped by a large door with sentinels on each side. The noble set the prince down and crouched in front of Peeta.

"I'll impart a secret with you, my prince, since you've been eager to share yours." He looked him straight in the eye while adjusting the boy's doublet. "There will be many telling you what to believe, Peeta, but the most important thing is what you believe. Never let anyone take it from you."

Peeta wiped the last stray tear from his plump cheeks and nodded. Lord Abernathy straightened up and was about to open the door when Peeta tugged at the hem of his jerkin.

"I have another secret, Lord Haymitch."

The noble chuckled. "It's not a secret anymore if you keep telling everyone."

The boy blushed. "No, this I haven't told anyone."

Lord Abernathy looked at the boy expectantly, but Peeta looked bashful. He motioned for the noble to bend over so he could whisper in his ear. Katniss crouched down low too, looking at Peeta's eager face as he whispered in confidence.

"I'll marry the Mockingjay when she comes here and make her my princess!"

Katniss looked at Peeta's innocent expression, the conviction in his eyes, and held her breath as she stood up slowly.

The door revealed a vast room hung with silk and exquisite, dainty furniture. Facing the open window was a regal woman gracefully extending her arm to greet her son who ran to meet her. The scene was swimming away from her, but she heard the murmured gallantries of the queen's ladies and Peeta ecstatically telling his mother about his secrets, never mind his earlier outburst.

Katniss's heart was heavy with emotion as the palace melted away, and in the next blink of her eye, Katniss found herself in the middle of a battlefield. Disoriented, she sought to run, but found that she was invisible here too. She heard the tearing of flesh, the grunts of men, and the howls of war. A sword swung down on a man's arm in front of her. Shields clashed. Blood covered the muddy ground as she instinctively avoided the fall of a dying soldier.

Lurking as though a ghost, like the departed ones littering the field, Katniss searched the multitude of soldiers for the one man she wanted to see most. She some knew she would find him here. Her heart beat madly against her chest and her hands were cold. She feared what he would be like, what the war would have wrought upon his boundless kindness. She remembered everything about him, the memories trickling and gradually spilling out of her guarded thoughts.

She walked the field slowly as she recalled. He was always warm when he would hold her, especially at night, when nothing but the comfort of his heartbeat against her ear would lull her to sleep. His eyes were always radiant when he smiled, even when among those beneath his stature, and it would always soften when turned towards her. She missed how he would kiss her hand in greeting, the flutter in her stomach never going away. He always stood steady beside her, never leaving her, and it made her guilt bloom when she recalled that she had left him.

A turn of her head to the right, to a high slope in the distance, made still her trembling heart.

There he was.

The boy from moments before was now a man, heavily gilded in his armor, the red emblem of the Twelfth Kingdom emblazoned on his breastplate. The crimson standards stood proud, flanking him. He was atop his bedecked horse, swathed in steel and enamel. He was majestic as the dying sun's rays bounced off his armor.

Then the war horn blew. The cavalry shouted their battle cry. His host spilled down the hill as his horse stood up stately, his sword raised.

And she missed him. She felt the vacancy within her more keenly now, as the war pounded amongst them in this perilous place where her prince could suffer a fatal blow any moment. She wanted nothing more than to run to him.

So she did.

She squeezed between the fighting soldiers, more of her memories of him, his actions, and his honeyed words sweeping through her. Katniss regretted never telling Peeta how she felt. She had showed him, after he proposed, with every deepening of their kiss, but words were an expression that presented everything more precisely. Her emotions intensified with every step. Her mind played the last moments she had with him so she could relive her regrets more acutely.

_He exhaled and smiled and took her cold hands into his own warm ones. His eyes softened. "Katniss, I need to ask you something." _

But his eyes had lost their brilliance. Even from afar, Katniss saw the grim set of his lips. Peeta's face was harsh as he thundered down, sword poised, to where the battle was thickest.

Peeta's arm swung to sever the head of a soldier, the body snapping backwards. The enemies who met him, man and beast, fell. Blood splattered against him but his unfeeling expression remained.

_She hesitated giving her response, insisting that it felt contrived. But he was always ready with his words. _

"_Everything would have led to this. It would have happened anyway," he whispered tenderly, looking into her eyes, trying hard to convince her._

And it was always his words that got to her. Katniss's hand went up to cover her mouth as her tears fell, one from each corner of her eyes, as she watched her prince slip away. The war took everything from him. His brothers. His youth. His chance at peace. Sometimes she wondered what her destiny was for, why she was here, and why her presence heralded so much bloodshed.

Peeta swung around and plunged his sword into the neck of another enemy. A spear launched towards him but he avoided this. His eyes turned steely as he galloped towards the perpetrator, their enemy's leader.

"_I would have done everything to make you see that we belonged together"_

Could they still be together, amidst all this? Despite the unconquerable divide of their two worlds?

Peeta dismounted from his horse and faced a monstrous enemy with a heavy arm. She feared for him with every parry of their weapons, with every step of their fatal duel. One of them had to be the victor. Her breath was forced out of her as Peeta fell on his back. She saw the fear in his eyes for a second, then he reached for a fallen spear and thrust it into the man's knees, between the plates of his armor. He stood up and retrieved his sword.

"_I would love you. Be it in any other time, war or no war, whether I was a prince or the last noble in line for the throne, it would still be you."_

Peeta, mid-swing, changed the grip of his sword to plunge it down to the kneeling, bloodied man before him. But as he stilled, with the slump of his shoulders and his labored breathing, she knew he had died here as well, even if only a little. Right then, she never wanted so badly to go back to Panem, to Peeta. Even though she promised a different reason to herself, another one more compelling magnified the truth and made it as clear as the dews in the morning.

And then her feelings broke through the barrier she placed on them.

She loved him.

It was both magical and terrifying, letting oneself go and just feel, releasing any barriers to fall straight into the vastness of the other.

And it had always been him. Always. From the time he had shared the burden with her, the moment he covered her hands with his and they killed, together, to the quest of the pearls where he never left her, until they were safe from the enemies that pursued them. There was no undoing how she felt, now that she admitted it, the power of it breaking over her, rushing through her, consuming her like a blazing fire that razed everything in its path.

Katniss wanted to go to Peeta now, to make sure he still had some of his humanity left, to see that the war had not changed him, to tell him how she felt and how sorry she was that she never told him.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and saw the fairy by her side.

"You're ready, Mockingjay," she said.

She almost could not hear the fairy from the shouts of men, of the Twelfth Kingdom's soldiers, as they cheered their oncoming victory. Their enemies were nearly wiped out. Slaughtered. Wasted. Forgotten when they move on to conquer the next. Katniss frantically searched for Peeta, but she felt a hand on her wrist where the bangle rested.

"Your weapons," the fairy said, touching each of the pearls. They shined. She took them one by one, starting with the last pearl she found in her world.

Like the objects near the mirrors, the pearl burned itself to dust. As it fell from her hand, it was as though it traced a shape. A bow began to materialize. She touched the tip as it grew more defined. It was exquisite, the wood smooth, the string taught, perfectly balanced, and of the right size.

She repeated this with the other pearls and was bestowed a quiver of arrows for each.

The fairy pointed to the quiver from the pearl she retrieved from the Lair of the Sirens. The shaft of the arrows were thick, the fletching a deep red. "The arrows here will conflagrate once they reach their target. It will be a fire that burns unlike its brothers. Use them wisely."

She took the next quiver, the one from the pearl in the ancient temple. The arrows here had intricate carvings on their shaft, their fletching black as the inky sky. "These explode upon contact of its mark. Use these sensibly," she added, looking into Katniss's eyes.

The fairy pointed to the last quiver. It was from the pearl they found at Mockings Hall. The arrows were the slimmest with white-feathered tips. "And these never stray from their path, wherever you wish for them to strike. Never doubt them."

Katniss swung the bow behind her back and gathered the quivers into her arms.

The fairy bent and took into her hands the dust from the pearls that had fallen.

"Lastly a blessing, Mockingjay, for you will find yourself in a much changed world than the one you left." She softly blew the brilliant dust and Katniss closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the fairy was gone.

She knew she was still invisible and wisp-like as the soldiers around her paid her no mind. But her feet were beginning to solidify, slowly taking root at last in Panem.

Katniss saw Peeta from afar. The battle was over. They had won. The feeling was steadily intensifying in her legs.

But before Katniss could exhale in relief, she noticed something coming from the dark concealed branches of the trees that bordered the battlefield. It was a small glint, moving fast, something only an archer like her would see. She saw it with such vivid perception that dread had time to thrive.

She could not move when it pierced its target. Peeta stood still as the arrow embedded itself near his chest, at that weak point where the plates revealed the chainmail below.

Katniss watched, horrified, as he staggered backwards.

With sudden, wild abandonment, Katniss let out a shrill cry. His name escaped her parted lips and Peeta's eyes rolled back, lying in the mud of the battlefield.

* * *

**AN:**

*Dodges flying tomatoes*

Yes, I had to leave it there. So, how was the ride? Too angst-y? I did give a warning though, but sometimes angst is just too good to resist. And besides, war is never pretty or glorious or heroic. It's bloody, senseless, and horrendous. This is but a taste of what's to come for Part 2. I really can't wait to share it with you guys but I'm afraid I don't have as much time to write as I did before. For my Elysian Fields readers, you know why. If not, go read Elysian Fields! I'm kidding. Anyway, the reason is that I recently moved to another country last month and I'm now back in school (culinary school, to be exact). I'm still adjusting and trying to figure out when's the best time of the day to write, because after having spent around 8 hours in the kitchen, I'm usually exhausted by the time I get home. But since I love the Hunger Games and I love Everlark and I love you guys, I promise that I will finish my WIPs. Perhaps a bit slower than before, but I give you long chapters anyway so I hope that makes up for it? Anyway, this Part 2 opening is a labor of love so I appreciate any comments or feedback from you guys. Really, I do. I reread every single one of them and it's what pulls me through when I get frustrated with a chapter. It helps. A lot. So let me know what you think!

Oh and, you can start firing the canons for the character death toll now. There'll be more before this is over.

That's all. See you soon! :D


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: **And without further delay, here you go my dear readers! I thank my beta, Katnissinme, for all her help with this chapter.

Enjoy reading!

* * *

**Mockings Hall**

**Chapter 12**

**Alternate Title: The Dark Side of the Heart**

Katniss shouted Peeta's name again, wanting to run to him as his soldiers were still staring at the scene in shock, caught between the jubilation of victory and the blow of seeing their leader lying in the mud. She wanted to lunge, but her feet were pressed to the ground.

Then the feeling in her legs slowed—_No!_—her surroundings moved faster and faster, as though she were watching a video being played thrice as fast. Archers aimed at the tree from where the shot came, and a body fell, pierced with so many arrows. There were shouts to assemble the soldiers, orders to carry the Prince and bring him to the healer.

It was all too much to witness. Katniss pressed her eyes shut as she gulped mouthfuls of air, feeling as though she was being pressed from all sides, the feeling from her legs rising through to her torso and limbs.

Her streaming eyes opened to a vastly different scene.

The soldiers were gone. The field was still, littered with corpses and mangled arms and dried wounds. A fog had descended, an eerie mantle over the landscape and the torn banners and emblems.

She was still breathing heavily, the bow and arrow a comforting presence slung around her body. As she took her first step, the bloody mud coming between her bare toes, Katniss heard the unwelcome squawks of crows in the distance. Lifeless eyes greeted her, their owners' lives bloodily cut short. This field may have once been beautiful, the soldiers resting on flowering weeds the color of sunshine, but it was now a macabre painting. Katniss felt her chest squeeze at the sight of such massive loss of lives.

A crow shot through to her right, startling her, the flap of its wings brushing against her hair.

Katniss took her bow from her shoulders and gripped it tightly. Based on the stillness of her surroundings, she was the only living human around. She bit her lip in frustration. How was she going to find Peeta?

Rather than allow panic to rise, Katniss looked around and peered at the trees. Perhaps if she knew which kingdom she was in she could start from there. The green foliage suggested she was not in the northern kingdoms where Autumn was perpetual. She must be near the center, where it was always Spring, perhaps even south of the fallen Capitol.

She crouched low and picked up a fallen standard. Beneath the layer of grime and blood, she saw the spiked gauntlet emblem of the Sixth Kingdom. But she thought that perhaps armies fought at places other than their kingdoms, and she was not really in the Sixth Kingdom. She threw the standard back in frustration and stood up. Even if she knew which territory she was in, she had no knowledge of the local villages. And she also didn't have a horse or proper clothes for traveling.

At the realization of her clothing situation, Katniss shivered and the hair on her arms rose at the cold. She had better seek shelter soon, somewhere far away from this battlefield, and start a fire.

It was difficult to battle the burdensome state of helplessness, especially as she looked around at her surroundings, the fog becoming denser as the minutes passed. She closed her eyes to calm herself, but the only images her mind permitted were those of Peeta, injured and lying in the mud. She feared what she would find if she located his camp.

Then her bangle started to feel warm. She looked down on it, the skin on her arm grateful for the heat. The empty bangle began to glow like the pearls. She watched, fascinated, as it, too, turned to dust and fell to the ground. Then, like her arrows, it materialized into a small, jeweled pewter pot, with engravings on its lid that reminded her of the bangle.

Katniss picked it up, unfastening the lid, to find a translucent, wobbly gel, with a faintly medicinal, pungent smell, like garlic that had been cooked for too long.

Katniss breathed a prayer to whoever was helping her. The fairy, she thought. She was sure this was a medicine for Peeta's injuries.

Her ears pricked to the sound of a galloping horse. She tensed immediately. It could be enemy soldiers, or marauders looking to loot the fallen weapons and have them traded or melted down to other objects.

She dropped the medicine and loaded her bow with the white arrow, the one that never missed according to the fairy. She could not see much in the fog, and the arrow's property should help in eradicating the threat. But a part of her mind told her to be cautious. What if it was not an enemy? Would she willingly kill someone innocent? Yet the instinct to preserve her life was strong. Panem was a dangerous place now, and she would not take any chances.

She pulled the bowstring tautly as the sound grew louder, nearer. Her mind's eye estimated the target. She exhaled to still her being, to make her aim more precise.

Katniss had a moment to choose to fire, yet her conscience wrangled with her baser instinct. It passed. Then the outline of the horse became visible, but there was no rider. She inhaled and lowered the bow as the bedecked horse galloped past and into the fog, scattering the crows that had begun to feed on the corpses.

And felt the cold blade of a sword at the side of her neck.

A low voice, calm and rational, spoke from behind her. "You should never lower your guard, my lady," her unseen assailant said.

She turned her head and saw a man, lightly dressed not in plates and chainmail but in a scratched leather doublet and a worn cape. He held the sword with both arms in perfect form. His dark hair was trimmed short. His skin was in compliment with the golden hue of his striking eyes, which were calculating and measuring.

"And you should never hold a sword against a woman," she retorted, looking for an emblem on his clothing, any sign of where this man's loyalties lied.

"Perhaps in another time, when brothers do not turn on their brothers," he replied.

"Are you going to kill me?" Katniss asked bluntly, the sword calm against her veins.

"Were _you_ going to kill me?" The man threw the question back shrewdly at her, jerking his head toward her bow.

"I hadn't gotten a chance to decide," she said.

The man smiled, his voice smooth as honeyed wine. "Pity. And you have such beautiful weapons. But extremely ill judgment will cost you your life in this war."

Katniss dropped her bow and quivers slowly, next to the medicine, not in surrender, but in hopes to get this man to behave in a less hostile manner toward her. "I don't mean you any harm," she confessed.

"But of course, you're hardly in a position to do so now," he drawled. The sword did not move from her neck.

"Please, I only sought a safe passage to the Twelfth Kingdom," she said, gambling her fate by revealing her allegiance, because if this man really had meant to kill her, she would be one of the corpses lying in the field by now.

The man narrowed his eyes then withdrew his sword. It was a relief to no longer feel the chill of steel. "Injudicious and trusting. A lethal combination during warfare, if I may say so," he said, sheathing his weapon. He turned away from her and whistled, and once again, the horse came galloping back.

"Gather your weapons," he said, looking back at her, then added, "Why do you seek the Twelfth Kingdom? It's a far place from where we are," the man asked.

"And where are we?" Katniss shot back. She was desperate. Peeta did not have much time. She was now willing to gamble anything and playing docile would not get her anywhere.

The man looked funnily at her, a girl lost in the middle of a battlefield. "Did you stumble here? Or fall from a horse and forget things?"

Annoyed, Katniss continued their odd banter of answering questions with questions. "Will you tell me where we are or not? So I know where to move," she said, lying, and making a motion to turn in the other direction.

The man moved to his horse and adjusted the saddle. Katniss continued to walk slowly, and farther out. The man sighed, as if waiting for her, and then she heard him mount his horse. It slowed to a trot beside her.

Before the man could gallop away and leave her, Katniss swallowed her pride and looked up. "Please tell me how to go to the Twelfth Kingdom, or to their encampment or wherever they are, if you know. If it's money you need—"

"It's not money I need from you, my lady, but answers. Proper ones, so I can decide if you are an enemy or not. And we're in the First Kingdom, to answer one of your questions."

She stopped. "The First Kingdom? Then why are there no silver banners with falcons in the field?" she asked, her previous lessons from Peeta kicking in.

The man's eyes swept their surroundings carefully, as if to see if they were still alone, before answering her. "Because the First Kingdom's people and soldiers scattered to the wind the day the Thirteenth Kingdom obliterated its monarchy. Its lands are now used as battlegrounds. A shame really, for its fields had been an arresting sight. There is much to be sorry for in this war."

She remembered the doomed Princess Cashmere at the mention of the First Kingdom. The man stopped his horse, waiting for her to respond. A chill went through the back of her neck as she answered one of the man's earlier questions. "I need to go to the Twelfth Kingdom because my cousin is there, fighting, and I have nowhere else to go," she fibbed.

Which the man saw right through. Chuckling, he replied, "Commendable effort, I must say, in not revealing the complete truth to a stranger, but ineffective if you do not know how to lie."

Katniss gritted her teeth in dismay, readjusting her bow. "Let's just cut to the chase. Are you taking me as prisoner?"

"Would you like to stay and wait for the pillagers who would take you as prisoner?" There was that tone in his voice again, as if he were patiently talking to a person of slow mind.

Katniss narrowed her eyes. "Will you help me or not? Because if not, then I have a lot of ground to cover and I need to start walking."

"I will help you if you answer me truthfully. Why do you need to go to the Twelfth Kingdom?" the man asked her in a more commanding tone, looking down at her with that calculating stare.

Katniss relented. "I need to see the Prince. I know he's gravely injured and I can help," she said confidently raising her chin to meet the man's stare.

"How?"

She unclasped the locket from her neck and tossed it to the man. "Because I am the Mockingjay."

His palm snapped close as he caught the locket and examined it. Then he gave her a long, measuring look, comprehension dawning on his face. He tossed her back the locket. An elongated moment stood between them, where Katniss prayed for him to believe her, before he finally extended his hand so that she could help herself onto the horse. "The truth sounds differently, wouldn't you say?" he teased.

Once safely mounted, the man instructed her to hold onto him, and that it would take a night's ride to reach the Twelfth Kingdom's camp, where he was heading.

So he was from there, she thought, thanking her lucky fate. Relief flooded through her.

"My name is Katniss," she said, introducing herself, as the horse gained momentum and cut through the dense fog.

"Cinna," the man replied.

* * *

Prince Peeta slipped between the cold folds of consciousness and the dry denseness of sleep. Between it, the onslaught of fevered dreams brought nothing but a bottomless ache. His heart was left hollow from everyone who had been taken from him. Every time he woke, a resounding agony emanated from his left shoulder, from where the arrow had pierced him. Relief would only come later, from the healer's medicine. But the medicine only tamed the beast partially.

Through the haze of his sleep he had heard them talking yesterday. They were puzzled by his wound; at the blood that slowly seeped from it and never seemed to abate, that he weakened every hour. Then the healer found the spidery gossamer of darkened veins sprouting menacingly from the wound.

They reached the inevitable conclusion when he spat out blood. The arrowhead had been poisoned.

His enemies had wanted the assurance of his life's forfeiture, and they were successful. The healer's vials could only slow that which was a certainty, knew it with growing dread as he lay almost immobile, almost unconscious, having such vivid, unpleasant dreams replace the reality outside. And through it all, he wanted something else so badly.

He wanted to dream of _her_ again, before the poison raced to his mind from where his heart pumped it onward. He wanted to see Katniss again, see her return to him even in dreams, just as when he had first heard about the legend.

Peeta had never forgotten the night she disappeared, the way her weight on his lap vanished as the echoes of her whispers rang in his ears, that she needed to retrieve the last pearl from her world. He thought of it every night in this damned war before he went to sleep, her name on his lips as his dreams pulled him under. He cursed the pearl for being in another world, for separating them, for being somewhere he could not follow. The fissure in his heart had urged him to lock himself in his mother's refuge, convincing himself that she would return soon, that he should wait for her. His father had understood. Lord Abernathy had been more disapproving of his display of vulnerability.

Then the day came when his father signed the declaration to go to war with his allies, and as the Prince, the only one left, it was his duty to protect his kingdom. He had walked out of his mother's home and locked the door on all his emotions, for they were all intrinsically linked to his beloved. With a mind of steel, he galloped to his first battle and emerged victorious, never looking back, never counting the men he had slain, only living for the next battle.

A wrong intake of air set the pain alight once again, disrupting his thoughts. He smelled the scent of parched soil taking in the softest patter of rain. He smelled the metallic tang of his armor nearby. He smelled the decay festering in his wound. Almost motionless from the pain, it was easy to fall asleep.

Then the poison must have reached his mind, he thought, bringing him under and birthing illusions, because he was with Katniss again. They were in the festival once more, that frenetic night of desires and dancing, of barely restrained want for the other, the liquid songs from the minstrels evaporating in the heat. It was a cruel dream. Katniss was within reach of him again, her gown of velvet and satin seductive under the light of the torches. She was so real. He lifted her in the air, brought her down, and turned. Amidst their joy, as they looked at the sky, he heard his brother, soft as a whisper, urgent as a plea. The dream took a more cruel turn as Peeta followed it at once, out of the festival, his guilt unbearable. He ran breathless towards his brother's room. But dread had already a home in his belly. If only they had returned for Aldran earlier. If only they had brought him with them. If only his eyes had not been clouded with passion and he had sensed the danger surrounding them. The dream ended as it had been in real life, with his brother dead and Prince Gloss free and Peeta left with an insurmountable guilt.

Peeta struggled to break through the nightmare's chains, to wrest the poison of its hold on his mortal body. He knew he could not die, not yet, not while his brother's murderer still lived. This truth, this acceptance, tethered him to the realm of the living, battling the poison for him. He knew that if he gave in, he might never wake up.

Then his senses sharpened as he fought sleep. Through his struggle, he heard a woman's voice calling his name.

He recognized this voice, and it came from somewhere far. He knew this voice. He had prayed fervently to hear it again. He smiled as he discerned its indignant tone. She had always had a feisty temperament.

Peeta strained to hear more.

A clang of metal, a thud, and a rush of footsteps came next, then the impatient sweep of the tent's flaps. The footsteps, light and tentative, approached him. Her sweet voice, worry woven in every tone, called his name.

Her fingers cupped his cheek. They felt cold. He opened his eyes. Katniss was there, looking at him, the locket dangling from her neck.

Peeta wanted to touch her face. It had been too long. His arm, though, would not move. Even though his mind was no longer under the poison, his body still was.

He felt something icy on his shoulder, where his wound pulsated. He sighed at the relief it brought.

Then the weight lifted. Peeta felt something pull him under once more to his dreams, but he faced it not with dread, but with a feeling of deliverance.

His last thought before it took over was the salty taste of moisture on his parched lips.

* * *

The nights and days where she had waited and taken care of Peeta passed with varying shades of intensity that left her exhausted, shoulders and lower back stiff from sleeping with her forehead on the bed while sitting by the bedside. Katniss was never the light sleeper, yet the smallest movement or the softest moan would wake her, and she would diligently check on Peeta's wound. He showed physical progress, the medicine working its miracles, but he rarely responded when she called to him. The disappointment inflicted her with innumerable little stings and chipped away at her fragile hope.

On the third day, as Peeta still lay quietly, Katniss pressed a tender kiss to his temple, and left the tent, eager to inhale a crisper air than the stale space inside the tent, muddled by candle flame and incense. Even though she worried for Peeta, she still sought something else to do if only to take her mind away from her prince's trouble.

Which was why she searched for Cinna now, the apprentice to the Master at Arms, for the man still held her weapons. She ached to practice, but as long as she was with the Prince, no weapon would be allowed in the royal tent. It was part of the agreement she gave Peeta's new Captain of the Guard as they argued outside the tent the say she returned. She had to remind herself that none of the ones who went with her in search of the pearls were here now: that to his current company, she was a strange girl with a strange claim as the Mockingjay who insisted on seeing their mortally wounded prince. Almost everyone had perished at the fall of the Capitol, giving their lives so that they could escape to find the third pearl at Mockings Hall. The Thirteenth Kingdom killed the remaining ones as it pursued them. It was the strength of Cinna's words that allowed her to go to Peeta. There was no time to wait for a letter from Lord Abernathy vouching for her identity.

She pinched the side of her light, layered satin dress to raise the hem as she walked on muddy ground. It was different from the one the fairy had given her, sturdier and better suited to the cool climate. There was a tug at her heart as she remembered where the clothes she wore came from, given to her one night when Cinna showed her a chest full of her clothes, a chest Peeta had insisted on bringing with him wherever he went. It was one of the many things that made her impatient to see Peeta wake up. She had so much to tell him.

The encampment stretched almost interminably to the far distance, and was a mix of tents and smoke and the occasional jovial laughter that kept the soldiers' minds from being too occupied with the turbulent war. The Twelfth Kingdom's army must number in the tens of thousands, possibly even reaching almost a hundred thousand, all risking death at the command of their Prince. Walking deeper into the camp, the sound of metal clanging drowned out the whistle of the wind. The reek of tension and sweat overpowered the blossoms of the flowering trees by the camp's borders.

She searched and asked for Cinna. Katniss felt uneasy being weaponless, even within the safety of Peeta's camp. She wanted her weapons back.

Katniss found Cinna near the stables, where he was sharpening several swords with other apprentices. He acknowledged her presence with a bow.

With an effort, Katniss decided to be direct and dispense with any of the courtesies that preceeded a conversation. "I would like my bow and arrows back please," she requested.

Cinna had just emptied a large metal bucket of its graying water contents and wiped the dripping sweat from his forehead, fruits of standing too close to the makeshift furnaces. He turned his soft, golden eyes to her. "Do you need them now?" he inquired.

"Yes, because I would like to spend some time in practice," she said calmly.

"Then perhaps my lady could take one of the bows used by the archers first," he said, indicating with his arm to a far wall where bows of black wood rested against aged racks. "My apologies, but I am making something for you and I need your bow and quivers," he added with a smile.

The stress of the past days made Katniss impatient, and she firmly demanded that she be given her weapons. If anybody would stop her over her bargain with the Captain, she would argue that it was already clear she was no threat to the Prince.

Cinna walked to where she stood. Then he looked at her with the same measured look when they first met. "Tell me, when the time comes to use them, will you be prepared to kill?"

She flinched. She was not prepared for a probe. Cinna continued when she didn't answer immediately. "I do not doubt your courage, my lady," he assured her, "but it takes more than courage to fire your weapon, even if you do practice, as you say."

"What does it matter anyway?" she said. "When that time comes, I will do what needs to be done. And I have taken someone's life before," she added.

His calculating stare never wavered, unnerving her. "In the middle of battle? With him equally prepared to take your life?"

"No," she mumbled. "He was dying and he sacrificed himself." She felt so small at that moment. "The truth is, I won't have a choice when the time comes for me to kill. I didn't have one then, and I doubt I would if an enemy wishes to kill me. I have to live, don't I?" she said, defiantly.

He regarded her for a moment before answering. "I'm afraid that's the wrong answer, and I cannot give you your weapons back," Cinna replied sadly, moving back to the table and picking up a sword to sharpen with a whetstone.

She looked sharply at him. "And what exactly is the answer you were looking for?"

Cinna put down the heavy sword on the table between them. The sword's balance was perfect, reposing with ease against the table. His eyes probed her sharply. "Conviction, my lady, is what I am looking for from you. For the person you kill, the soldier who had set aside his fears and his hopes as he marches to war deserves a better death in the battlefield than from a person who fires the arrow that ends his life simply because the choice was wrestled from her hands."

"So you're suggesting that I should want to kill?" Katniss whispered angrily.

"Not at all, not everyone was born to kill, much less have the stomach for war. But in the face of all the deaths, the only shred of nobility and honor we could hope to retain is when we defend a truth we believe in. All of the soldiers who have marched on with the Prince believe that he seeks to stop the kingdoms from destroying our home, and nothing more. He fights not for power but in defense of his people. And they will ride and fight and die by that belief.

"And besides, if you fire that arrow prematurely, before your conviction has grounded you, you will find yourself lost, my lady. It will be a most unbearably painful position to not know why you have killed so many," he said, returning to sharpening the sword.

When Katniss did not reply, Cinna looked up and added with a finality, "They will be yours again, Lady Everdeen, once you are ready."

* * *

Katniss walked back to the tent, shaken by Cinna's words. She had not expected those stinging words. She had thought she was ready, after what the fairy had shown her.

She was so immersed in her thoughts that she did not notice a man standing in the middle of the tent as she walked in. His back was to her as he slowly donned a leather jerkin over his linen shirt.

Her heart skipped in her chest.

Katniss's breath slowed as she observed him. He was so different from how she remembered him before the war started, before she left for her world. His wavy blonde hair was now half a hand's measure longer, the ends licking by his nape. He had gained a great bulk of muscles and his shirt floated around the planes and ridges of his stomach. He still moved slowly and carefully because of his shoulder, but to see Peeta standing again, away from the tendrils of the poison, swelled the emotions she had kept secured since she screamed his name. No more wishing. No more praying. Her prince, her beloved, was here, now. Alive. Safe.

Katniss ran to him at once, her sight wavering in tears, crashing into his back and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, the impact jolting them both. She rested her head between his shoulders as her body began to shake. The horrible images of him being struck by the arrow invaded her mind again, and she shook her head as if to ward them off, and held Peeta tighter, as if he would disappear. She sobbed, no longer able to keep at bay the ache of uncertainty over his survival, never before having loved someone so deeply.

Peeta placed his hands on top of hers. They were warm, and she had missed them so much. "Katniss," Peeta's reassuring voice echoed within his body, the sound of it prompting more tears.

"Shhh…"She admonished.

"I'm fine now, Katniss," he said, in a gravelly, unused voice that trembled. He reassured her by giving her hands a small squeeze.

Katniss responded by welding her arms around his hard waist, facing to the side so she could inhale and speak. "You scared me to death, damn you," she breathed. "If only you knew how much this means to me, to see you alive," she sobbed.

Peeta's thumb stroked the back of her hand comfortingly. "I'm sorry I made you worry," he whispered, "But I am all right now, thanks to you."

Yet Katniss could not stop her tears. Peeta laced his fingers through hers as they stood. She expelled all her fears, remembering the days and nights when she would count his breaths, looking to see if the shallow pattern ever ceased.

When she had subsided, Peeta slowly moved to face her and secured her hands behind him. She looked up, finally meeting his blue eyes, brilliant even in the weak candlelight, without the haze of pain and delirium. The sounds of the camp outside filtered in.

Katniss leaned closer. The war had reshaped his face to further maturity. Though his eyes remained as they had been, kind and warm, his jaw fell in sharper angles, prickled with stubble. Katniss pulled her arm from behind him and ran a hand down his cheek, testing the shadow of a beard her prince had, the short hair bristling her palm. Peeta took her hand and kissed it, the gesture so simple and intimate, and it seemed she had waited so long for such a touch. They shared a smile when she hiccupped, a remnant of her earlier cries. His eyes grew softer as he looked her over.

"You came back," he said, as his arms wound around her.

"Of course," Katniss said, closing her eyes. "I wasn't finished yet here. And I came back for you, too," she added.

"I missed you," Katniss said, opening her eyes, Peeta's face so near hers, his lips inches from her trembling mouth, the anticipation making her breathless.

Then Peeta leaned in, and she closed her eyes again, the kiss slow and unhurried. He didn't go further, staying where he was to languidly savor her lips.

He pulled back a little to murmur to her, "And I've missed you most intolerably." There was a clang of metal outside the tent, reminding her that they were in the middle of a devastating war, but at this moment, she had never felt safer and more loved. Katniss leaned in to kiss him, this time a bit more intense, a bit more impatient, pulling him to her by his collar. She tilted her head, losing herself in the kiss as their tongues danced, committing the fire she felt at this moment to memory.

They broke again for air.

"I need to tell you something," Katniss said, surprising herself at the urgency her voice carried. But the moment demanded it, and she had to ride the wave. Peeta was about to dip his head to access her throat, but now lazily moved back up to look at her, a smile on his lips, the light from the happy emotions of their reunion dancing in his eyes.

Katniss's breaths started coming short. Even now the words did not fall easily from her. She had never before placed herself in such a position, so open and trusting and vulnerable.

"What is it?" Peeta asked gently when she continued to just look at him. Her heart responded to his voice, beating fast against her ribs. But there was nothing to fear. There never had been. This was Peeta.

Her words found their home as her heart pushed her voice.

"I love you, Peeta," she confessed, her voice growing stronger in conviction. His hold grew tighter, and the way he looked at her made her breath quicken. She lost herself again in his eyes and in his arms, but it was a glorious surrender. And she could not stop her words. "I'm sorry it took me so long, and that I didn't tell you back then because I was so scared and confused and thought it was so fast. But I do, I do love you, Peeta," and her sight wavered again as the tears came.

Peeta smiled adoringly, radiant as the dawning sun, warming her throughout and making her feel as if she could soar. One of his hands cradled her cheek, wiping the tears with his thumb.

"I love you too," he responded. "And I never want to part with you again," he added, drawing her closer to him. And while in his arms she knew that no matter what they faced outside amidst the chaos of war, together, they were invincible.

* * *

Her pebbled nipples brushed against his chest as her ecstasy arched her back toward Lord Hawthorne. His false name fell from her lips after her repeated chorus of exultation, writhing, moaning, and completely conquered. Gale raced to his own hollow conclusion as he ground her to the mattress, hips snapping until his abdomen ached and he spilled.

After a few exhales, he disentangled himself from her legs and sat on the bed's edge, reaching for a flagon of wine and a goblet, his only constant companion during his trysts. He had prayed the woman was sated enough. He needed valuable knowledge from her. This was his life now, all in service and duty to his kingdom.

She was still panting heavily, trying to recover from their fourth joining of the day. He felt her hand trace his spine, knowing what else the woman demanded of him. She would have him another time before she spilled her secrets. Gale grew anxious. The longer they stayed, the more it became dangerous. There was no day that passed without him fearing their discovery.

The woman continued to trace mindless shapes at the base of his back, tingling his skin with the pads of her fingers. He looked back at her as he drank more wine. Her eyes were mischievous, her hair dark as grapes spilling into her breasts. To the woman, he was merely another scribe to another nobleman, mining for information to make his master more favorable to the queen.

As if to persuade, he felt her lips along his spine, her breath cool against his sweat, until they stopped by his ear. "That was a considerable service rendered for such a paltry piece of information I hold," she purred.

"Nothing is ever trite to my master," Gale replied, returning the goblet to the table by the bed.

"Oh, but what I know will soon be common knowledge," she whispered.

"Yes, but my master needs to know it _now_," he persuaded, and with that, he twisted fast and pinned her to the bed again.

The woman yelped in excitement and arched toward him again, whispering as she dug her sharp nails into his scalp.

"Very well then," she said coyly. The moment she had told him what he needed, Gale's blood turned to ice. He could barely concentrate as he seduced her again.

He needed to find Princess Johanna. And they would need to leave the Thirteenth Kingdom immediately. All the information that Lord Abernathy needed from him had been secured and covertly sent, save for this new knowledge, this devastatingly important piece of information.

When the woman was finally sated, he left her side and dressed swiftly. He prowled the stone halls and went up to the towers. The princess may be in the company of the young heir to Queen Alma.

Princess Johanna and himself played the role of the tumultuous couple perfectly, he the rogue lover and she the scorned woman. It was the only act that would divert suspicion from them being seen often together.

He saw her exiting the young prince's chambers, carrying a mass of linen sheets in her arms. The passageway was mercifully deserted. As soon as she saw him and the expression he wore, she knew there was something grave he would share, and was about to walk to him when the door opened. Young Prince Nim, fragile and sickly, appeared.

"You forgot my gift from the winter garden," the boy said, handing Johanna a stem of night iris, its petals a shocking violet.

Princess Johanna smiled sincerely as she took the flower, affectionately ruffling his hair. "Forgive your poor, forgetful chambermaid, Your Highness." She bowed low, and Prince Nim looked pleased as he returned to his room.

Johanna's friendship with the young prince was a calculated move on their part. If they were to be discovered, the heir may play a role in ensuring they kept their heads attached. It was well known that Queen Alma gave her son anything.

When Johanna neared him, he knew his face was grim. "What have you learned?" she asked, her eyes growing steely.

"The Thirteenth Kingdom will attack the Twelfth Kingdom next—"

Princess Johanna eyed him narrowly. "So send word to Lord Abernathy to fortify the defenses in the isthmus you share with the Fourth Kingdom—"

Gale exhaled sharply. "They do not intend to attack through the land," he said, pausing. "They will attack through the northern coasts, through the sea, with another host. A much larger host. The one currently deployed in Panem is merely a decoy," he said.

At once, Johanna's expression grew sharp as the reasons dawned on her. "Because they know your kingdom is defenseless while Prince Peeta leads the army in the mainland," she finished the conclusion in his mind. The realization had hit him hard when the woman unloaded her secret. Gale looked out the large windows, at the skeletal trees that shook in the howling winter storm.

"We will need a diversion," Johanna whispered, looking up at him. Gale's expression hardened. He had already thought of it. His eyes fell to the night iris on top of the soiled sheets in Johanna's arms, and met her glare as their minds raced to a unified thought.

He felt her grip his wrists painfully and she moved to block his way, as if to shield the room's innocent occupant from the unthinkable deed Lord Hawthorne had already resigned himself to do.

* * *

The frayed yellow ribbon Katniss held in both hands snapped back as she released one end. She had been twisting and stretching, rolling and knotting the once beautiful ribbon for hours as she waited for Peeta. Their tent now felt more confining and restrictive as her Prince insisted she stay there. He did not want her going into battles with him. Merely a week after his recovery, he was called to war once more.

Katniss pleaded with him that she should join, being the Mockingjay, and Peeta pleaded back that he was not prepared to see her in battle yet. There were too many unpredictable variables, he reasoned, and since they had only regained each other, it was painful to give up the certainty of her safety. Besides, he had said as his squire helped him into his heavy armor, this battle was only a clean up, finally rounding out what had remained of the Fifth Kingdom's host. Lord Abernathy had instructed the Prince to wait with his men on the far side of the Third and Sixth Kingdoms's borders, where Prince Finnick would have conducted the battle with the Fifth Kingdom.

He had kissed her goodbye before she could argue some more, and that was when she saw the ribbon hanging from the closed lips of a wooden chest. She yanked it free and began to make knots, infinitely bored and at the same time worried about Peeta. However, no amount of fiddling with the ribbon eased her anxiety. She felt useless. And stupid, for relying on a ribbon to calm her down. She itched for her bow and arrow. It had always been her source of calmness, her breathing aligning with the tautest tension of the bowstring before its release, and the satisfying trajectory of her arrow as her eyes tracked its path.

She threw the frayed ribbon into a growing pile of earlier discarded ribbons and fetched a fresh one. A part of her resented Peeta for being too protective and for leaving her behind. She wanted to argue with him that she was supposed to be fulfilling her destiny here, not just waiting and sitting around.

Katniss sat down again on a low, upholstered stool. On the table behind her were heaps of scrolls and maps, with small flags indicating the kingdoms and their armies and where they were deployed. On the far end were the letters delivered by falcons that had kept pouring and pouring and weighing down on Peeta.

Their nights had been as before. Katniss would be the first to bed, sleepily waiting for Peeta, but now he pored over the maps and ran battle strategies in his mind. He was still the sweet, attentive Prince as he had always been, but Katniss sensed that shadow that hung on him like a cloak. He carried it when he went to bed with her, and this time around, it would be Peeta's head resting against her chest, and she felt him hold her tightly, desperately.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard the exhausted cry of horses and the ribbon in her hands stretched to the breaking point at her anxiety.

She had just risen from her chair when Peeta violently walked through the tent, his armor shining red, the air smelling of the salty tang of blood and metal. His scribe followed him dutifully. He paused behind the table, breathing heavily. She was taken aback by the angry waves that rolled off him. It pulled his muscles taut. His eyes were orbs of fury. Katniss had seen this side of him in the mirror, seen a milder twin of it as they escaped the Capitol. The Prince before her now was as dark as a moonless sky.

Peeta had not acknowledged her presence as his scribe removed his armor hastily. He impatiently plucked the steel plates from his arms and let them fall to the ground, eyeing them in distaste, as though they would bite him. Once stripped of the heavy protection, he marched to the other side of the tent where the bathing chamber was. The flap released the steam inside, and before long, she heard the sounds of water and skin being roughly scrubbed.

Katniss was shocked at what she had witnessed. She walked tensely towards the flap, thinking that Peeta might need some help. Even though his disposition frightened her, she marched bravely on. She pulled the flaps aside.

"Go away!" Peeta barked. Her hand froze immediately. She heard the sound of spilling water. The steam masked anything to be seen clearly, save for the dark outline of the copper tub.

When she didn't move, Peeta commanded from within again. "You need not see this, so go away." The rough scrubbing sound stopped, as did her heart at his cold tone.

Peeta impatiently shouted again his desire to be left alone. His angry tone made her eyes grow wide with alarm. Had he always done this after a battle?

Hurt, Katniss slowly withdrew her hand, looking down at the red-stained water seeping from the chamber and lapping at the hem of her silken dress.

* * *

The pain shot from Minister Heavensbee's thumb, up his arm, the blood crying down to his sleeve, the culprit a thorn. He looked at the offending plant, resisting the urge to suck on his wound. In his haste to get to the meeting, one of his sleeves caught a wilting rose's stem in the Chancellor's garden. It was one of the few patches of beauty in the joyless palace of the Second Kingdom, which was now their seat of command after they had barely escaped the Capitol. The Chancellor had all but usurped his brother the king in all matters. But then, there never was a doubt as to who truly ruled.

He pinched his thumb tightly with his other finger, walking and being more careful of the tall bushes surrounding him. There was no need to add more to the injuries he had suffered from the ambush of his carriage yesterday, where he lost half his retinue. Today, he was summoned by the Chancellor, who cared not if he had lost a leg so long as he could still use his mind. By the tones of the voices near the fountain clearing, he was already late.

Minister Heavensbee did not miss the swift look of loathing Minister Crane shot him when he arrived. His suspicions about who orchestrated his ambush were now verified. The war had them lapsing into savageness and barbarity, so far removed from the courtly pursuits and manners they had always maintained. No matter, it was this kind of pit that Minister Heavensbee excelled at manipulating. He savored that moment when his bitter rival in Minister Crane realized he had escaped, not unscathed, but at least still breathing, enough to keep the wheels of revenge turning.

He smirked and savored even more the fact that Minister Crane was here to deliver news on their alliance's strike against the Seventh Kingdom. Minister Heavensbee knew the news was grim.

"Well?" The Chancellor rounded on Minister Crane, who no longer carried a luster in his eyes. Even his leather boots had looked worn. He swallowed nervously, unsure how to swing the news to a positive light.

"Prince Gustav has survived, Your Excellency."

Chancellor Snow's eyes grew colder. "And our forces?" he asked sweetly, showing that frightening countenance predators reserve for prey.

"Substantial damage was incurred by the Ninth Kingdom."

The Chancellor hissed. "And what of the scourge from the frozen north?"

"We are still pursuing—"

"_Still_ pursuing?" Snow echoed ominously. "That should have been dealt with already. Long ago. Before they had a chance to gain momentum." He paced back and forth, clearly unsettled. Then he paused, looking at Plutarch.

"Did you bring some wine, Minister Heavensbee?" The old man inquired, his beard ever wiry and white.

"Wine, Your Excellency?" It was Plutarch's turn to feel the coldness of those eyes. The Chancellor was known to cast a wide net of blame in his anger.

"Because I thought, with all these news, that perhaps we could celebrate by giving a toast," Chancellor Snow smiled while eyeing both his deputies. "Gentlemen, you should congratulate yourselves. Both of you had started and mired us in a war where we have not the upper hand!" The Chancellor screamed, his ominous voice echoing.

Minister Heavensbee dared speak, despite his instinct's protest, in an effort to appease Snow. "If I may, Your Excellency, we did make progress on the Third Kingdom. Their Queen had already been dealt with, along with the prince she carried. This leaves King Beetius with no heir and no fight left in him—"

"I did not want the decrepit Third Kingdom alone, I had aimed for the whole of Panem, safe and functioning and thriving despite our schemes, but all it seems I will have are its ashes if and when my precarious victory is secured," the Chancellor spat out. Then the old man started to cough, the blood undeniable on his palms. He coughed for a long time, thin shoulders trembling. The healers said his illness devoured his insides excruciatingly. That explained his brisk temper.

The Chancellor's imminent death made him more desperate. It made him more ruthless.

It gave Plutarch the signal it was time to follow his own plans. There would be a void soon, if the Chancellor died and the war was not yet concluded. It was time to prepare for that.

He had one more card to play to turn the odds in his favor. And seal the nail on Crane's coffin.

"My spies have brought me a curious piece of information," he ventured, earning a glare from Minister Crane and a sneer from the Chancellor who spat on a linen kerchief, dismissively wondering if his colorful words could turn the war around.

"They found something of interest in the ruins of the Eighth Kingdom, an old castle rich in forgotten history," Plutarch offered. The Chancellor's eyes scanned his face. One wrong word and he may be facing the rack that would pull his limbs apart. The Chancellor was not in a forgiving mood.

"The Twelfth Kingdom has been hiding something, Your Excellency. Before the Unification Ball, my spies have gathered that an event had occurred, that, amazingly, one of their legends turned out to have a seed of truth in them. The legend of the Mockingjay. The very symbol in their emblem. _She_ is here."

"_She_?" the Chancellor asked, unconvinced. Plutarch flicked an eye over to Minister Crane, whose blood drained from his face. In fact, it was Crane's spies who had gathered the information. But they now pocketed gold from Plutarch's coffers. Greedy men were easy to predict and manipulate.

"Yes, she. The darling lady attached to the youngest prince's hip during the Unification Ball. The carvings at the old castle revealed that another Mockingjay was here before, during the last great war, aiding their King Petrarch to victory. If history has favored them before, we can expect history to favor them again, especially with her auspicious arrival. I think we all know on whom we should focus. It is never good to give a worthy enemy any advantages," he finished confidently, silkily.

Chancellor Snow wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, looking at him with renewed eyes. This man that he had served for so long he knew better than he knew his own father. He knew the granite-faced politician would finally give him what was due. No more sharing with Crane. While Crane saw the Chancellor as someone to court and flatter and please, Plutarch knew that for Chancellor Snow, life and power were one and the same thing for him. With his disease, there would never be a better opportunity to give the man what he desired above all things. Absolute power. And to finally deal the lethal blow to his long-standing enemy, the Twelfth Kingdom, would be the key to holding the Chancellor's confidence.

_But what of Panem?_ A tiny voice that sounded much like his father echoed in his head. He banished the thought. The nation was only second to ambitions. They had already drenched Panem in blood. Another woman's life would be but a drop in the sea.

And he knew he had secured his place with his revelation, that Crane was now a walking corpse. But he still had reason to be cautious, for dead men had nothing to lose. And should the Chancellor not gain anything from his information, he would be following Crane. But now was the time to savor his small victory, his cunning, and his greatness.

But as if to remind him of his mortality, Plutarch felt the wound ache once more, and his thumb bled again.

* * *

She had stayed away from the tent all evening, choosing to eat her evening meal with Cinna. Peeta's sudden, irrational actions were discomfiting, the change so abrupt and so distinct. His words still whipped at her heart.

The moon was high in the dark, cloudless sky, and she felt the day's fatigue even if not much had been done. Katniss bade the apprentice a good eventide and walked back to the tent, mindful of the pained moans the wounded around her emitted. She felt a helplessness that dragged her as she walked, as though the cries of the soldiers clawed at her dress, slowing her gait. It did not help that she knew she could have done something, especially with her gifted arrows. But nothing more could be done until Cinna released her weapons and Peeta relinquished his stubbornness over her safety.

The tent was dark and quiet, most of the candles unlit save for the ones by the entrance. She headed for their sleeping chamber after lighting another candle to bring with her.

She saw Peeta sleeping, but not on their bed. Her Prince sat on the floor, leaning against the bedside, exhaustion lining his face.

Katniss settled the candle on the table and fetched a woolen blanket. She should wake Peeta, or if he did not want to move, she knew she should at least drape the blanket over him to shield him from the cold.

Before her hand could smooth the thick cloth over his lap, a rush of wind knocked her breath, and pain dully emanated from her throat. Fingers locked painfully around her thin wrist, she felt a dagger against her throat, the blade pressing dangerously close to her hammering pulse.

She took a good look at her aggressor. Her eyes widened in fright.

Peeta's expression was heartbreakingly distrustful and fearful, his mind imprisoned by malevolent visions. They stared at one another, breathing heavily, Katniss shocked once more at the change in her prince.

"You're hurting me Peeta," she whispered. He let her go at once, as though her skin burned him.

"Never do that again," he growled, unhinged, as he sheathed the dagger and stood, leaving Katniss stunned.

He strode to the table and threw the dagger. "I did not want you here tonight," he murmured, still breathing heavily. "I had been dreading the day that you should see me like this."

Undaunted by what happened, Katniss walked to stand beside him. He refused to look at her so she placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her. She knew where this came from.

"How many have you slain, Peeta?" she asked.

His eyes met hers unflinchingly. "By my hand or my command?"

Katniss took the hand by his cheek to cover her mouth. She knew the answer. He must have sent thousands to their deaths. She knew the darkness had encroached on her sweet prince. The gentleness he once had was now poisoned by violence and tragedy.

Then he started to shake, as though an unrelenting chill passed through him. Peeta gripped her hips. His voice was soft and unnerved. "Can you still say that you love me?" His frantic eyes probed hers.

"Yes, of course," Katniss replied, without hesitation.

"Can you love all of me, then? Even though I'm a killer, Katniss."

"Yes—"

"Because it's better to leave me now, after you've seen all of me, than to keep me hoping," he harshly interrupted her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Katniss said, reaching behind her to unlace her stomacher. She shed her silken layers, until she was only in her gauzy underclothes.

Peeta sucked in a breath at the sight of her barely concealed body. She led him carefully to bed and climbed in, her arms opening to receive him. His heavy body pressed into hers as he settled his head against her neck. Katniss stroked his hair gently hoping to relax him.

As her lids began to close, Peeta spoke. "I see Aldran's murderer in every enemy I face in battle. And I kill them as though they are. It's what drives me to slay them, to take that final step in deciding they didn't deserve to live. Then in my dreams, especially after a battle, Prince Gloss is always still alive, always within grasp, but I never complete the kill," he confessed.

Katniss did not respond, realizing how close she had been to being harmed by her prince who was consumed with revenge. So she just stroked his hair again until he fell asleep. But it took a long time before she too slumbered, before she could shake off everything that had happened.

* * *

When his eyes opened, Peeta knew he had only a few hours' rest. But even so, his tightly strung body never needed more than a handful of hours. Besides, his sleep was always punctured with his recent battles, his mind replaying them in the most vivid and draining way possible.

He had awoken because he had sensed someone approaching the tent. Not an enemy, but not someone expected as well. Peeta carefully extricated himself from the sleepy tangle of Katniss's arms and got dressed.

His mood descended once he left Katniss in bed. He felt that inexplicable anger that haunted him nowadays, aimed at everything yet at no one in particular. The day he had started feeling this way, he knew that even if he did not die, the war had already claimed him. It had awakened that beast within every man that demanded for blood, and no peasant, no knight, no prince was exempt.

Peeta found his squire nervously looking to the ground as he exited from his sleeping chambers. He was the son of a distant retainer to Lord Abernathy's family, a gentle boy who would not last long in battle.

The squire informed him of the news he had been awaiting for weeks. The hunting party he had sent out, right before he even rode into his first battle, had finally returned. It was a special mission he entrusted to only a few of his privy gentlemen and knights.

He ventured out into the camp at once, the sky caught between dark and light. A thin layer of the blood red sunrise rose slowly from the horizon. His boots sunk to the soft mud as he approached a makeshift wooden prison, built from splintering stakes and old nails. A pole stood in the middle, and a man sat tied to it. His hair was long, his clothes tattered and filthy. He groaned as a bucket of gray water splashed into his head.

A guard opened the gate, and as Peeta went nearer, the man rolled his head to his shoulders.

He had changed, Peeta thought. The shirt now hung loosely, having been made for a body strapped with flesh and muscle, not bones and loose skin. The water slid the dirt from his face, and as Peeta crouched before the man, his eyes opened. Peeta felt satisfaction as he recognized a flicker of dread in them.

Peeta smiled cruelly, "Ah Prince Gloss, how foolish of you to have been caught."

His brother's murderer spat out a loose tooth, no doubt from an earlier skirmish. The eyes quickly blazed as a raspy, low voice grumbled. "Spare me your words, Prince, and get on with your revenge."

"Why, if I had known you were in such a hurry to die, I would have just sent my bloodhounds after you, to be hunted down like a wild boar," Peeta remarked. "No, we both have come a long way, Prince Gloss, and we must settle this in the right manner. You surely would not deny my men the opportunity to relish the death of their prince's murderer and have his butchery avenged."

Prince Gloss stared at Peeta with unmitigated hatred. The prisoner's pride was still plentiful and no remorse would bleed from him.

Undeterred, Peeta gave an uninterested remark. "No need to worry, Prince Gloss, if it's death you seek, then I can assure you that you will forfeit your wretched life by sundown."

He left the prison and issued instructions to his deputy to build the scaffold immediately.

* * *

The executioner's sword lay on the very table on which they partook their meals.

Katniss swallowed as she appraised the heavy looking weapon, no doubt to be wielded with both hands. The noise from the construction of the scaffold had gone, leaving only certainty that one man would lose his life before the moon rose again.

She did not speak to Peeta all morning and afternoon, after being crankily woken by the noise of the construction, and gathering information from his squire about what had happened. She feared for Peeta, and she even feared for the doomed Prince Gloss. She remembered Princess Cashmere as her broken body hit the sea. She imagined the once stately and proud Prince now weakened and helpless and being dragged to the block. She felt sick and ran to the bathing chamber to expel her last meal on a wooden pail.

When she emerged, Peeta was standing by the table, rigid as a pole with his back to her.

"Peeta, please don't do this," she begged.

"And what do you suggest I do, let him walk free?" he snapped back.

Katniss moved toward him, knew he had heard her, but he still did not face her. "Let the bloodshed and revenge stop with you, Peeta," she asked of him sadly.

"I need to do this," he replied with finality and heavy conviction, sheathing the sword with a click. Desperate to stop him, she placed a hand to his shirt, clutching, pulling him back from walking out.

"It will destroy you, Peeta," she said, hating the way her voice cracked at the end. "There's always another way, another choice," she insisted.

But the coldness of his resolution seeped through his tone. "There never was for me," he replied. "A prince must be unflinching in his duty to protect his kingdom and his family, and avenge them if need be."

But Katniss had not let him go, and instead, leaned her forehead to his back, hoping he would stay. His next words broke her heart.

"I love you, Katniss, but not even you can get in the way of this," he declared harshly before he left.

Standing alone, with her closed fist now empty, the air torn from her lungs, Katniss felt as though Peeta had slapped her.

* * *

She did not leave the tent until she heard the drums beating for the doomed Prince Gloss. Katniss forced herself to get out of the tent, to witness what she knew would be Peeta's most difficult hour.

The soldiers assembled in orderly lines and she could see the scaffold built by the foot of a hill. Peeta was already there, both his hands resting on the hilt of the heavy sword. Katniss walked until she reached the side of the tall platform, wishing Peeta would look at her. He did not. But she felt a familiar presence come to her right. It was Cinna.

The field was silent and the soldiers stood still. She next heard the sounds of grunting. Through the wide berth between the groups of soldiers, two men dragged the fallen prince who seemed to have lost the ability to walk. Prince Gloss was brought to the woodblock, directly in front of Peeta. The front of the block was dressed in small stacks of hay.

The soldiers pushed Prince Gloss to a kneeling position, tied his hands behind his back, and from the tremble in his body, she knew all his bravery had deserted him, unlike his sister who valiantly sought her freedom in death.

Peeta positioned himself beside the kneeling man. "You are allowed your final words," he spoke roughly.

Prince Gloss remained silent.

After seconds of waiting, Peeta began to step back in preparation for the execution. As he was about to take the last step that would bring him to the perfect distance to behead the man, Prince Gloss turned to Peeta, his eyes accusing and full of loathing.

"You would have done the same thing," he enunciated slowly in an agonized voice. Katniss gasped at the statement. She saw Peeta hesitate. Prince Gloss, propelled by anguish, shouted his next words for all the soldiers to hear.

"You would have killed my sister, if it meant saving your brother from the Chancellor, and I would have been the one wielding the sword now," he said.

Peeta's face had drained of color.

Embittered, Prince Gloss continued, tears now running down his face. "My only crime was that I loved my sister as much as you loved your brother, and that's why we're here. So do it, Prince. End my life, and I will watch in the next as you rot in this world." Prince Gloss then lowered his neck on the block, a sign of submission to his execution, closing his eyes in anticipation.

She wanted to shout at Peeta to stop. That it was not too late. But instead, she held her silence.

Katniss saw Peeta grip the sword with both his hands. He looked at Gloss with undisguised revulsion. "I hope your stirring words were a comfort to you," he said as he positioned the blade against Gloss's neck.

And it all happened so slowly. As Peeta raised his arms, Gloss opened his eyes and met Katniss's gaze. It seemed as though she were back in the mirror, her connection to Cashmere felt so strong, and the pain in her heart was as though she were the princess, witnessing her own brother's execution. She felt so acutely the antagonistic yet loyal love that all siblings share.

Peeta's cry rushed to her ears. The sword flashed in an arc. Then bone bowed to steel in a sound as gentle and swift as a bird's flight. Katniss closed her eyes as the severed head fell to the hay and the emaciated body slumped to the block. She heard the frantic running of someone distancing himself from the wretched site, and she knew to whom the sounds belonged.

* * *

Katniss found Peeta in the copper tub, filled with steaming water. Her prince soaked in his clothes, staring blankly at the space ahead of him. She pulled a wooden stool and took Peeta's hand, humbly offering whatever comfort she could impart with her touch. She knew he was unreachable, that she had to wait for him to come to her.

Finally Peeta whispered. "He was right." His tone was broken, whipping her heart.

"Peeta please, let's get you out—"

"How could I have condemned a man whose actions would have been my own had our fates reversed? Had my brothers been the ones threatened by the Chancellor?" He turned to her, eyes in pain. "If it had been you he threatened?" The last words were whispered in torment as his hand reached for her cheek.

"I am his mirror, Katniss, and only our allegiance distinguished us," he said, withdrawing his hand. She could only look at him.

Then Peeta took a washcloth hanging by the tub and began rubbing the back of his left hand raw, muttering, "It won't go away."

Katniss looked on, alarmed, as the redness deepened. She placed her hand on Peeta's wrist to stop him.

He looked at her, questioning. "Let me," she said. She held her hand out for the cloth. She would do this for him, she thought, cleanse him and share his burden as he had always done for her. She cupped his face and smiled sadly.

Katniss stood and retrieved more buckets of hot water and soap, and instructed Peeta to remove his clothes.

She returned and saw Peeta had lowered himself into the tub, his broad shoulders exposing his scar from the poisoned arrow.

"Just close your eyes," she told him. When he did, she leaned and pressed a kiss on his forehead, her own tears mingling with the water.

She lathered the cloth with the soap and began gently cleaning Peeta's hands. The hot water relaxed her prince, and soon he was leaning his neck back against the tub, his shoulders unwinding.

Katniss cleaned him with tender strokes, lovingly scrubbing even between his fingers and toes, up his arms and legs. Never mind that her sleeves were soaked and the front of her dress was also stained with soapy water. She worked diligently, wishing she could scrub away the tarnish on her golden prince. His was a mind pushed too far. Pushed by circumstances that had spiraled out of control. Pushed by the many players who pulled the strings in this war.

When she was done, she handed Peeta the towel and left him to dress, composing herself by the chamber's entrance. She led him to bed, where he slept immediately, that eternal frown on his forehead finally smoothed.

As she looked at her sleeping Prince, Katniss felt a wave of hot anger course through her at the people responsible for making Peeta this way. The Chancellor. His deputies. Even Peeta's father. It was all a convoluted, tragic mess.

Katniss forced herself to step back. She went to her wooden chest where her clothes were and secured a cape around her shoulders for the cool air. She headed out of the tent in search of Cinna.

* * *

Cinna was sharpening daggers this time when she found him; the sound of steel swiping steel sickened her, reminding her of what had transpired at sundown.

He bowed when she made her presence known. "My lady," he acknowledged.

She walked closer to him. "I need my weapons," she demanded quietly.

"Do you think you deserve to use them now, my lady?"

"I need my weapons," she said again, standing her ground. Cinna went around the slab of stone he worked on, assessing her, seeking to see what had changed. She met his eyes defiantly.

"Then tell me, Mockingjay, are you now prepared to kill?"

Katniss thought of the men she had seen slaughtered in the battlefield, the chaos that Panem had descended to, the images she saw in the mirror, and finally, her broken prince. All these heartaches hurried her reply.

"Yes, I am."

And she finally understood the tragedy of it all, that even the best intentions could spawn the darkest deeds, as she herself was prepared to do everything to save Peeta and protect him. It was now her turn to pay the price of war, as everybody had done.

* * *

**AN: **Sooo? How was it? I would LOVE to know what you think. This chapter, especially Gloss's execution, has been one of the things that I had been looking forward to share with you guys ever since I started outlining the story. Mockings Hall, when I planned it, and you may have noticed, is not just focused on Everlark. I deliberately made this a multi-POV story because I believe that Everlark doesn't exist in a vacuum, especially with war as its backdrop. The choices of other characters will affect them, as we have seen here. It plays a huge dynamic on their relationship. And it will play an even bigger role in the chapters to come.

Speaking of chapters, if you follow me on tumblr, you will have seen my post about the alternate titles of the coming chapters as a teaser. If not, come join me on tumblr and we'll have lots of fun as I share sneak peeks and outtakes and other stuff that interest me (FOOD, FOOD, FOOD). Oh, and here you go :D

_Chapter 13: Lost in Paradise_

_Chapter 14: The Feast_

_Chapter 15: Where They Can't Hurt Us_

_Chapter 16: Never Let Me Go_

_Chapter 17: The Broken Places_

_Epilogue_

We're more than halfway through already. And I would like to thank all my readers, those who follow this story, those who have it under their favorites, and those who have reviewed. Thank you so much. You guys keep me going as I chug through writing these long chapters for you.

See you! :D


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